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LETTERS TO SEVERALL 
PERSONS OF HONOUR 



This edition is limited 
to six hundred copies 



LETTERS TO SEVERALL 
PERSONS OF HONOUR 



BY 



JOHN DONNE 



THE TEXT EDITED, WITH NOTES, BY 

CHARLES EDMUND MERRILL, Jr. 



NEW YORK 

STURGIS y WALTON COMPANY 
1910 



Copyright, 19 io 
Bv Sturgis y Walton Company 



/?= 



^ CI.A2782S9 



^ 



TO 
PAYSON MERRILL 

QUALEM NEQUE CANDIDIOREM 
TERRA TULIT, NEQUE CUI ME SIT DEVINCTIOR ALTER 




NOTE 

THE Letters to Severall Persons of Hon- 
our, now for the first time reprinted in their 
original 'form, were collected and published hy 
John Donne, Jr., in 1651, twenty years after the 
death of the author. Apparently the sales were 
not large, for three years later the original sheets 
were rebound with a new title page and put on the 
market as a second edition. Not many copies of 
the earlier, and still fewer of the later date, have 
come down to us. 

In the present volume changes from a7id 
additions to the original text are indicated by 
brackets, with a single exception: errors in punc- 
tuation have been corrected without comment 
when, and only when, they seem seriously to im- 
pair the intelligibility of the text. In the case of 
a few letters the reading followed is that of the 
original manuscripts, for which I am indebted to 
the great kindness of Mr. Edmund Gosse, 



Note 

Readers of Mr. Gosse^s brilliant study, The 
Life and Letters of John Donne (London: 
Heinemann, 1899) will not need to be reminded 
of the obligations under which he has placed all 
later students of Donne^s life and work. I have, 
in addition, to thank him for generous encourage- 
ment and for many helpful suggestions, specific 
and general. 

C. E. M., Jr. 

Huntington, Long Island 
October 14, 1910. 



LETTERS TO SEVERALL 
PERSONS OF HONOUR 



d/ Titlf Page of Origi 



LETTER*: 

SEVER i^ rERSOKS 
oi 



•JOHN DONNE 

Somerir- « jo«rf a-i??, ,, , „ f 

From an trngravtng by Pierre Lomhari, prtfixed to the Poems of /«^jj, 



a/;(^f a portrait of Donne at the age oj forty 



John Do 

• Civil!. Lsv7> 



t the I 



^?i sm5im^:'^&i 'rfm ■^mr^^ x^ - ^^'!^:W^^wm ' 



{Facsimile of Title Page of Original Edition.) 

LETTERS 

TO 

SEVERALL PERSONS 

OF HONOUR: 

WRITTEN BT 

•JOHN DONNE 

Sometime Deane of 

«y^ Tau/s London. 



Publiflied by J o H N Donne D^ of 
the Civill Law. 



LOHDOJSl, 

Printed by J. Flefher^ for ^chard Marriot^ and arc 

to be fold at his (hop in S^ Drnflans Church yard 

under the DyalL 1^51. 




To the most virtuous 

and excellent Lady, Mris. 



BRIDGET DUNCH. 



Madam, 

IT is an argument of the Immortality of 
the Soul, that it can apprehend, and 
imhrace such a Conception; and it may 
be some kinde of Prophecy of the con- 
tinuance and lasting of these Letters, that 
having been scattered, more then Sibyls leaves, 
I cannot say into parts, but corners of the World, 
they have recollected and united themselves, 
meeting at once, as it were, at the same 

spring 



The Epistle 



spring, from whence they flowed, but by Suc- 
cession. 

But the piety of ^Eneas to Anchises, with the 
heat and fervour of his zeale, had been dazelled 
and extinguished by the fire of Troy, and his 
Father become his Tombe, had not a brighter 
flame appeared in his Protection, and Venus 
herself descended with her embraces, to protect 
her Martlall Champion; so that there is no 
safer way to give a perpetuity to this remnant 
of the dead Authour, but by dedicating it to the 
Altar of Beauty and perfection; and if you. 
Madam, be but pleased to shed on it one beame 
of your Grace and Favour, that very Adumbra- 
tion will quicken it with a new Spirit, and de- 
fend it from all fire {the fate of most Letters) 
but the last; which, turning these into ashes, 
shall revive the Authour from his Urne, and 
put him into a capacity of celebrating you, his 
Guardian Angell, who has protected that part 
of his Soul, that he left behinde him, his Fame 
and Reputation. 

The courtesies that you conferre upon the 
living may admit of some allay, by a possibility 
of a Retaliation; but what you bestow upon the 
Dead is a Sacrifice to pure Virtue; an ungifted 
Deity, his true, without Oblation, Altar, or 

Temple 



Dedicatory, 



Temple, ij she were not enshrined in your noble 
brest, but I must j or ever become her votary, if 
it be but for giving me this Inclination, and 
desire of being 

Madam 

Your most humble servant 

Jo. Donne. 



A 

COLLECTION 

of Letters written to severall 

Persons of Honour. 

[i.] 
To the worthiest Lady M" Bridget White. 

Madame, 

1 Could make some guesse whether souls 
that go to heaven, retain any memory 
of us that stay behinde, if I knew 
whether you ever thought of us, since you 
enjoyed your heaven, which is your self, 
at home. Your going away hath made 
London a dead carkasse. A Tearm and a 
Court do a little spice and embalme it, and 
keep It from putrefaction, but the soul went 
away in you: and I think the onely reason 
why the plague is somewhat slackned is 
because the place is dead already, and no 
body left worth the killing. Wheresoever 

you 



Letters to severall 



you are, Inhere is London enough: and It is a 
diminishing of you to say so, since you are 
more then the rest of the world. When you 
have a desire to work a miracle, you will re- 
turn hither, and raise the place from the 
dead, and the dead that are in it; of which I 
am one, but that a hope that I have a room 
in your favour keeps me alive, which you 
shall abundantly confirme to me, if by one 
letter you tell me that you have received my 
six; for now my letters are grown to that 
bulk, that I may divide them like Amadis 
the Gaules book, and tell you that this is the 
first letter of the second part of the first 
book. 



Strand, S. Peters 

day at nine. Your humblest, and affectionate 



servant J. D. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 



[ii.] 

To the worthiest Lad's ^" B- W. 
Madame, 

I Think the letters which I send to you 
single lose themselves by the way for 
want of a guide, or faint for want of com- 
pany. Now, that on your part there be no 
excuse, after three single letters, I send three 
together, that every one of them may have 
two witnesses of their delivery. They come 
also to waite upon another letter from S'" E. 
Herbert^ of whose recovery from a Fever, you 
may apprehend a perfecter contentment then 
we, because you had none of the former sorrow. 
I am an Heretique if it be sound Doctrine, 
that pleasure tasts best after sorrow. For 
my part, I can love health well enough, 
though I be never sick; and I never needed my 
Mistris frowns and disfavours, to make her 
favours acceptable to me. In States, it is a 
weakness to stand upon a defensive war, and 
safer not to be invaded, then to have over- 
come: so in our souls health, an innocence is 
better then the heartiest repentance. And 
in the pleasures of this life, it is better that 
the variety of the pleasures give us the taste 

and 



Letters to several! 



and appetite to it, then a sowre and sad inter- 
ruption quicken our stomack; for then we live 
by Physick. I wish therefore all your happi- 
nesses such as this intire, and without flaw, 
or spot of discontentment; and such is the love 
and service of 

Strand S. Peters Your humblest and affectionatest 

day at 4. servant J. D, 

[iii.l 
To the same. 

Madame, 

THis letter which I send enclosed hath 
been yours many moneths, and hath 
languished upon my table for a passage so 
long, that as others send news in their letters, 
I send an antiquity in mine. I durst not 
tear it, after it was yours: there is some 
sacriledge in defacing any thing consecrated 
to you, and some impiety to despaire that 
any thing devoted to you should riot be re- 
served to a good issue. I remember I should 
have sent it by a servant, of whose diligence 
I see I was too confident. I know not what 
it says : but I dare make this letter no longer, 
because being very sure that I always think 

the 



Persons of Honour, 



the same thoughts of you, I am afraid I 

should fall upon the same words, and so send 

one letter twice together. 

Your very affectionate 
Novemb. 8. servant J. D. 

[iv.j 
To the Honourable Lady M'' B. W. 

Madame, 

I Have but small comfort in this letter; the 
messenger comes too easily to me, and I 
am too sure that the letter shall be delivered. 
All adventures towards you should be of more 
difficulty and hazard. But perchance I need 
not lament this; it may be so many of my 
letters are lost already that it is time that one 
should come, like Jobs servant, to bring word 
that the rest were lost. If you have had more 
before, this comes to aske how they were re- 
ceived; and if you have had none, it comes 
to try how they should have been received. 
It comes to you like a bashfuU servant, who, 
though he have an extreme desire to put him- 
self in your presence, yet hath not much to 
say when he is come: yet hath it as much to 
say as you can think; because what degrees 

soever 



Letters to several/ 



soever of honour, respect, and devotion you 

can imagine or beleeve to be in any, this 

letter tells you that all those are in me towards 

you. So that for this letter you are my 

Secretary; for your worthiness, and your 

opinion that I have a just estimation of 

them [?it], write it: so that it is as long, and 

as good, as you think it; and nothing is left 

to me, but, as a witness, to subscribe the name 

of 

Your most humble servant 
J.D. 

Though this letter be yours, it will not mis- 
become or disproportion it that I mention your 
Noble brother, who is gone to Cleave, not to re- 
turn till towards Christmas, except the business 
deserve him not so long. 

[v.] 

To the Honourable L. the Lady Kingsmel upon 
the death oj her Husband. 

Madame, 

THose , things which God dissolves at 
once, as he shall do the Sun, and Moon, 
and those bodies at the last conflagration, 
he never intends to reunite again; but in 
those things, which he takes in pieces, as he 
doth man, and wife, in these divorces by 

death 



Persons of Honour. 7 

death, and in single persons, by the divorce 
of body and soul, God hath another purpose 
to make them up again. That piece which 
he takes to himself, is presently cast in a 
mould, and in an instant made fit for his use; 
for heaven is not a place of a proficiency, but 
of present perfection. That piece which he 
leaves behinde in this world, by the death of 
a part thereof, growes fitter and fitter for him, 
by the good use of his corrections, and the 
intire conformity to his will. Nothing dis- 
proportions us, nor makes us so uncapable of 
being reunited to those whom we loved here, 
as murmuring, or not advancing the good- 
ness of him, who hath removed them from 
hence. We would wonder, to see a man, 
who in a wood were left to his liberty, to fell 
what trees he would, take onely the crooked, 
and leave the streightest trees; but that man 
hath perchance a ship to build, and not a 
house, and so hath use of that kinde of timber: 
let not us, who know that in Gods house there 
are many Mansions, but yet have no modell, 
no designe of the forme of that building, 
wonder at his taking in of his materialls, why 
he takes the young, and leaves the old, or why 
the sickly overlive those that had better 

health 



8 Letters to several! 

health. We are not bound to think that 
souls departed, have devested all affections 
towards them, whom they left here; but we 
are bound to think, that for all their loves they 
would not be here again : Then is the will of 
God done in Earth, as it is in Heaven, when 
we neither pretermit his actions, nor resist 
them; neither pass them over in an incon- 
sideration, as though God had no hand in 
them, nor go about to take them out of his 
hands, as though we could direct him to do 
them better. As Cods Scriptures are his will, 
so his actions are his will; both are Testaments, 
because they testifie his minde to us. It is 
not lawfuU to adde a scedule to either of his 
wills: as they do ill, who adde to his written 
will, the Scriptures, a scedule of Ap[o]cryphall 
books, so do they also, who to his other will, 
his manifested actions, adde Apocryphall 
conditions, and a scedule of such limitations 
as these. If God would have stayed thus long, 
or. If God would have proceeded in this or 
this manner, I could have born it. To say 
that our afflictions are greater then we can 
bear, is so near to despairing, as that the same 
words express both; for when we consider 
Caines words in that originall tongue in which 

God 



Persons of Honour, 



God spake, we cannot tell whether the words 
be, My punishment is greater then can be 
born; or. My sin is greater then can be for- 
given. But, Madame, you who wilHngly 
sacrificed your self to God, in your obedience 
to him, in your own sickness, cannot be 
doubted to dispute with him about any part 
of you which he shall be pleased to require at 
your hands. The difference is great in the loss 
of an arme, or a head; of a child, or a husband: 
but to them, who are incorporated Into Christ, 
their head, there can be no beheading; upon 
you, who are a member of the spouse of Christ, 
the Church, there can fall no widowhead, nor 
orphanage upon those children to whom God 
is father. I have not another office by your 
husbands death, for I was your Chaplaine be- 
fore, in my daily prayers; but I shall inlarge 
that oifice with other Collects then before, that 
God will continue to you, that peace which you 
have ever had in him, and send you quiet, and 
peaceable dispositions in all them with whom 
you shall have any thing to do in your tem- 
porall estate and matters of this world. Amen. 

Your Ladiships very huvible and 
At my poor house at S. thankfull servant in Christ 

Pauls. 26. Octob. 1624. Jesus J. Donne. 

To 



lo Letters to sever all 

[vi.] 
To my honoured friend S^ T. Lucey. 

SIR, 

I Make account that this writing of letters, 
when it is with any seriousness, is a kind 
of extasie, and a departure and secession and 
suspension of the soul, w^h doth then comu- 
nicate itself to two bodies: And, as I would 
every day provide for my souls last convoy, 
though I know not when I shall die, and per- 
chance I shall never die, so for these extasies 
in letters, I oftentimes deliver my self over 
in writing when I know not when those letters 
shall be sent to you, and many times they 
never are, for I have a little satisfaction in 
seeing a letter written to you upon my table, 
though I meet no opportunity of sending it. 
Especially this summer, when either by my 
early retiring home, or your irresolutions of 
your own purposes, or some other possessions 
of yours, you did lesse reveale to me your pro- 
gresses, and stations, and where I might crosse 
you by letters, then heretofore: I make shift 
to lay little fault upon you, because my par- 
don might be easier, if I transgress into a 
longer and busier letter then your Countrey 

sports 



Persons of Honour. 1 1 

sports admit; but you may read it in winter: 
And by that time I may more clearly express 
my self for those things which have entred 
into me, concerning your soul: for as the 
greatest advantage which mans soul is thought 
to have beyond others, is that which they call 
Actum reflexum, and iteratum, (for Beasts do 
the same things as we do, but they do not con- 
sider nor remember the circumstances and 
inducements, 'and by what power and faculty 
it is that they do them) so of those which they 
call Actum reflexum the noblest is that which 
reflects upon the soul itself, and considers and 
meditates it. Into which considerations when 
I walke after my slow and unperfect pace, I 
begin to think that as litigious men tryed with 
suits admit any arbitrement; and Princes 
travailed with long and wastfuU war descend 
to such conditions of peace, as they are soon 
after ashamed to have embraced: so Philos- 
ophers, and so all sects of Christians, after 
long disputations and controversies, have 
allowed many things for positive and dogmati- 
call truths which are not worthy of that dig- 
nity. And so many doctrines have grown to 
be the ordinary diet and food of our spirits, 
and have place in the pap of Catechismes, 

which 



12 Letters to sever all 

which were admitted but as Physick in that 
present distemper, or accepted in a lazie weari- 
ness, when men, so they might have something 
to reUe upon, and to excuse themselves from 
more painfull inquisition, never examined 
what that was. To which indisposition of 
ours the Casuists are so indulgent, as that 
they allow a conscience to adhere to any 
probable opinion against a more probable, and 
and do never binde him to seek out which is 
the more probable, but give him leave to 
dissemble it and to depart from it, if by 
mischance he come to know it. This, as it 
appears in all sciences, so most manifestly in 
Physick, which for a long time considering 
nothing, but plain curing and that but by 
example and precedent, the world at last 
longed for some certain Canons and Rules, 
how these cures might be accomplished; And 
when men are inflamed with this desire, and 
that such a fire breaks out, that it rages and 
consumes infinitly by heat of argument, except 
some of authority interpose. This produced 
Hippocrates his Aphorismes; and the world 
slumbred or took breath in his resolution 
divers hundreds of years: And then in Galens 
time, which was not satisfied with the effect 

of 



Persons of Honour, 13 

of curing, nor with the knowledge how to cure, 
broke out another desire of finding out the 
causes why those simples wrought those 
effects. Then Galen rather to stay their stom- 
achs then that he gave them enough, taught 
them the qualities of the four Elements, and 
arrested them upon this, that all differences 
of qualities proceeded from them. And after 
(not much before our time), men perceiving 
that all effects in Physick could not be derived 
from these beggerly and impotent properties, 
of the Elements, and that therefore they were 
driven often to that miserable refuge of spe- 
cifique form, and of antipathy and sympathy, 
we see the world hath turned upon new prin- 
ciples which are attributed to Paracelsus, but 
(indeed) too much to his honour. Certainly 
it is also so in the Physick of our soul. Divin- 
ity, for in the Primitive Church when amongst 
the Fathers there were so divers opinions of the 
state of the soul, presently after this life, they 
easily inclined to be content to do as much for 
them dead as when they were alive, and so 
concurred in a charitable disposition to pray 
for them; which manner of prayer then in use 
no Christian Church at this day, having re- 
reived better light, will allow of. So also 

when 



14 Letters to sever all 

when in the beginning of S. Augustines time 
Grace had been so much advanced that mans 
Nature was scarce admitted to be so much as 
any means or instrument (not onely no kinde 
of cause) of his own good works: And soon 
after in S. Augustines time also mans free will 
(by fierce opposition and arguing against the 
former error) was too much overvalued, and 
admitted into too near degrees of fellowship 
with Grace; those times admitted a doctrine 
and form of reconciliation, which though for 
reverence to the time, both the Dominicans 
and Jesuits at this day in their great quarrell 
about Grace and Free will would yet seem to 
maintaine, yet indifferent and dispassioned 
men of that Church see there is no possibility 
in it, and therefore accuse it of absurdity and 
and almost of heresie. I think it falls out thus 
also in the matter of the soul: for Christian 
Religion presuming a soul, and intending prin- 
cipally her happiness in the life to come, hath 
been content to accept any way which hath 
been obtruded, how this soul is begun in us. 
Hence it is that whole Christian Churches arest 
themselves upon propagation from parents; 
and other whole Christian Churches allow 
onely infusion from God. In both which 

opinions 



Persons of Honour, 15 

opinions there appear such infirmities as it is 
time to look for a better: for whosoever will 
adhere to the way of propagation can never 
evict necessarily and certainly a naturall im- 
mortality in the soul, if the soul result out of 
matter, nor shall he ever prove that all man- 
kind hath any more then one soul: as cer- 
tainly of all beasts, if they receive such souls 
as they have from their parents, every species 
can have but one soul. And they which follow 
the opinion of infusion from God, and of a new 
creation, (which is now the more common 
opinion), as they can very hardly defend the 
doctrin of original sin (the soul is forced to 
take this Infection, and comes not Into the 
body of her own disposition), so shall they 
never be able to prove that all those whom we 
see in the shape of men have an immortall and 
reasonable soul, because our parents are as 
able as any other species is to give us a soul 
of growth and of sense, and to perform all 
vitall and animall functions, and so with- 
out Infusion of such a soul may produce a 
creature as wise and well disposed as any 
horse or Elephant, of which degree many 
whom we see come far short; nor hath God 
bound or declared himself that he will always 

create 



1 6 Letters to sever all 

create a soul for every embryon, there is yet 
therefore no opinion in Philisophy, nor Divin- 
ity, so well established as constrains us to be- 
leeve, both that the soul is immortall, and that 
every particular man hath such a soul: which 
since out of the great mercy of our God we do 
constantly beleeve, I am ashamed that we do 
not also know it by searching farther: But as 
sometimes we had rather beleeve a Travellers 
lie then go to disprove him, so men rather 
cleave to these ways then seek new: yet be- 
cause I have meditated therein, I will shortly 
acquaint you with what I think; for I would 
not be in danger of that law of Moses, That if 
a man dig a pit, and cover it not, he must 
recompense those which are damnified by it: 
which is often interpreted of such as shake old 
opinions, and do not establish new as certain 
but leave consciences in a worse danger then 
they found them in. I beleeve that law of 
Moses hath in it some mysterie and appliable- 
nesse; for by that law men are onely then 
bound to that indemnity and compensation, 
if an Oxe or an Asse (that is, such as are of a 
strong constitution and accustomed to labour) 
fall therein; but it is not said so, if a Sheep or 
a Goat fall: no more are we, if men in a silli- 

nesse 



Persons of Honour. 17 

nesse or wantonnesse will stumble or take a 
scandall, bound to rectifie them at all times. 
And therefore because I justly presume you 
strong and watchfull enough, I make account 
that I am not obnoxious to that law, since my 
meditations are neither too wide nor too deep 
for you, except onely that my way of express- 
ing them may be extended beyond your 
patience and pardon, which I will therefore 
tempt no longer at this time. 

From Micham, my Your very affectionate friend 

close prison ever and servant and lover 
since I saw you, 

9 Octob. I. Donne. 



vn. 



To the Noblest Knight S"" Edward Herbert L. of 

Cherbury; sent to him with his 

Book Biathanatos. 

SIR, 

I Make accompt that this book hath enough 
performed that which it undertook, both 
by argument and example. It shall therefore 
the lesse need to be it self another example 
of the Doctrine. It shall not therefore kill it 
self; that is, not bury it self; for if it should 
do so, those reasons, by which that act should 

be 



1 8 Letters to severall 

be defended or excused were also lost with it. 
Since it is content to live, it cannot chuse a 
wholsomer aire then your Library, where 
Authors of all complexions are presented. If 
ary of them grudge this book a room, and sus- 
pect it of new or dangerous doctrine, you who 
know us all, can best moderate. To those 
reasons which I know your love to me will 
make in my favour and discharge, you may 
adde this, that though this doctrine hath not 
been taught nor defended by writers, yet they, 
most of any sort of men in the world, have 
practised it. 

Your very true and earnest freind 
and servant and lover 
J. Donne. 

[vlii.j 

To S*" Robert Carre now Earle of Ankerum, with my 
Book Biathanatos at my going into Germany. 

SIR, 

I Had need do somewhat towards you above 
my promises; How weak are my perform- 
ances, when even my promises are defective? 
^I cannot promise, no not in mine own hopes, 
equally to your merit towards me. But be- 
sides the Poems, of which you took a promise, 

I 



Persons of Honour, 19 

I send you another Book to which there be- 
longs this History. It was written by me 
many years since; and because it is upon a 
misinterpretable subject, I have always gone so 
near suppressing it, as that it is onely not 
burnt: no hand hath passed upon it to copy it, 
nor many eyes to read it: onely to some partic- 
ular friends in both Universities, then when I 
writ it, I did communicate it: And I remember, 
I had this answer, That certainly, there was a 
false thread in it, but not easily found: Keep 
it, I pray, with the same jealousie; let any that 
your discretion admits to the sight of it, know 
the date of it; and that it is a Book written by 
Jack Donne, and not by D[r]. Don7ie: Reserve 
it for me, if I live, and if I die, I only forbid 
it the Presse, and the Fire: publish it not, 
but yet burn it not; and between those, do 
what you will with it. Love me still, thus 
farre, for your own sake, that when you with- 
draw your love from me, you will finde so many 
unworthinesses in me, as you grow ashamed 
of having had so long, and so much, such a 
thing as 

Your poor servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



To 



20 Letters to several I 

[ix.] 
To the Countesse of Bedford. 

Madam , 

AMongst many other dignities which this 
letter hath by being received and seen 
by you, it is not the least, that it was prophe- 
sied of before it was born: for your brother 
told you in his letter, that I had written : he did 
me much honour both in advancing my truth 
so farre as to call a promise an act already 
done; and to provide me a means of doing him 
a service in this act, which is but doing right to 
my self: for by this performance of mine own 
word, I have also justified that part of his 
Letter which concerned me; and it had been 
a double guiltinesse in me, to have made him 
guilty towards you. It makes no difference 
that this came not the same day, nor bears 
the same date as his; for though in inherit- 
ances and worldly possessions we consider the 
dates of Evidences, yet in Letters, by which 
we deliver over our affections, and assur- 
ances of friendship, and the best faculties 
of our souls, times and dales cannot have 
Interest, nor be considerable, because that 
which passes by them, is eternall, and out of 

the 



Persons of Honour. 2 1 

the measure of time. Because therefore it 
is the office of this Letter, to convey my best 
wishes, and all the effects of a noble love unto 
you, (which are the best fruits that so poor 
a soil, as my poor soul is, can produce) you 
may be pleased to allow the Letter thus much 
of the souls privilege, as to exempt it from 
straitnesse of hours, or any measure of times, 
and so beleeve it came then. And for my 
part, I shall make it so like my soul, that as 
that affection, of which it is the messenger, be- 
gun in me without my knowing when, any 
more then I know when my soul began; so it 
shall continue as long as that. 

Your most affextionate friend and servant 
J.D. 

[x.j 
To the right honourable the Countess of Montgomery. 

MADAM, 

OF my ability to doe your Ladiship ser- 
vice, any thing spoken may be an em- 
bleme good enough; for as a word vanisheth, 
so doth any power in me to serve you; things 
that are written are fitter testimonies, because 
they remain and are permanent; in writing 

this 



22 Lette?'s to several I 

this Sermon which your Ladiship was pleased 
to hear before, I confesse I satisfie an ambi- 
tion of mine own, but it is the ambition of 
obeying your commandment, not onely an am- 
bition of leaving my name in your memory, 
or in the your Cabinet: and yet, since I am 
going out of the Kingdom, and perchance out 
* of the world, (when God shall have given my 
soul a place in heaven) it shall the lesse 
diminish your Ladiship, if my poor name 
be preserved about you. I know what 
dead carkasses things written are, in respect 
of things spoken. But in things of this 
kinde, that soul that inanimates them, 
never departs from them: The Spirit of 
God that dictates them in the speaker or 
writer, and Is present in his tongue or hand 
meets himself again (as we meet our selves in 
a glass) in the eles and ears and hearts of the 
hearers and readers: and that Spirit, which 
is ever the same to an equall devotion, makes 
a writing and a speaking equall mxcans to edi- 
fication. In one circumstance, my preaching 
and my writing this Sermon is too equall : that 
that your Ladiship heard In a hoarse voyce 
then, you read In a course hand now: but In 
thankfulnesse I shall lift up my hands as clean 

as 



Persons of Honour, 23 

as my infirmities can keep them, and a voyce 
as clear as his spirit shall be pleased to tune 
in my prayers for your Ladyship in all places 
of the world, which shall either sustain or bury 

Your Ladiships humble servant 
in Christ lesus 

J.D. 



[xi.l 
To Sir n. R. [ToSirll.G.] 

IF a whole year be but Annus ah Annulo, 
because it returns into it self, what Annu- 
lulus shall be diminutive enough, to express 
our weekly revolutions ? In chaines the least 
linkes have most curiosity, but that can be 
no emblem of us : but they have also the most 
strength, and that may. The first sphere 
onely which is resisted by nothing, absolves 
his course every day; and so doth true friend- 
ship well placed, often iterate in act or pur- 
pose, the same offices. But as the lower 
spheres, subject to the violence of that, and 
yet naturally encouraged to a reluctation 
against it, have therefore many distractions, 
and eccentricities, and some trepidations, 
and so return but lamely, and lately to the 

same 



24 Letters to sever all 

same place, and office: so that friendship which 
is not moved primarily by the proper intelli- 
gence, discretion, and about the naturell cen- 
ter, vertue, doth perchance sometimes, some 
things, somewhat like true friendship; but 
hath many deviations, which are strayings 
into new loves, (not of other men; for that is 
proper to true wise friendship, which is not a 
marr[y]ing; but of other things) and hath such 
trepidations as keep it from shewing it self, 
where great persons do not love; and it re- 
turns to the true first station and place of 
friendship planetarily, which is uncertainly 
and seldome. I have ever seen in London and 
our Court, as some colours, and habits, and 
continuances, and motions, and phrases, and 
accents, and songs, so friends in fashion and 
in season: and I have seen them as sodainly 
abandoned altogether, though I see no change 
in them, nor know more why they were left, 
then why they were chosen. To do things by 
example, and upon confidence of anothers 
judgment may be some kinde of a second wis- 
dome; but it is but writing by a copy: or in- 
deed it is the hardest of all, and the issue of the 
first wisdome, for I cannot know that this ex- 
ample should be followed, except I knew that it 

is 



Persons of Honour, 25 

is good, and so I judge my Judge. Our assent 
therefore, and arrest, must be upon things, not 
persons. And when we are sure we are in the 
right way, for great persons, we may be glad 
of their company, if they go our way; we may 
for them change our place, but not our end, 
nor our way, if there be but one, us [as] in Re- 
ligion. In persevering in it, it concerns as [us] 
much what our companions be, but very much 
what our friends. In which I know I speak 
not dangerously nor mis-appliably to you, as 
though I averted you from any of those 
friends, who are of other impressions then you 
or I in some great circumstances of Religion. 
You know I never fettered nor imprisoned 
the word Religion; not straightning it Frierly, 
ad Religiones factitias, (as the Romans call 
well their orders of Religion) nor immuring 
it in a Rome, or a Wittemherg, or a Geneva; 
they are all virtuall beams of one Sun, and 
wheresoever they finde clay hearts, they 
harden them, and moulder them into dust; 
and they entender and molliiie waxen. They 
are not so contrary as the North and South 
Poles; and that [?] they are connaturall pieces 
of one circle. Religion is Christianity, which 
being too spirituall to be seen by us, doth 

therefore 



26 Letters to several I 

therefore take an apparent body of good life 
and works, so salvation requires an honest 
Christian. These are the two Elements, and 
he which elemented from these, hath the com- 
plexion of a good man, and a fit friend. The 
diseases are, too much intention into indis- 
creet zeal, and too much remisnesse and 
negligence by giving scandall: for our condi- 
tion and state in this, is as infirm as in our 
bodies; where physitians consider only two 
degrees; sicknesse, and neutrality; for there 
is no health in us. This, Sir, I use to say to 
you, rather to have so good a witnesse and cor- 
rector of my meditations, then to advise; and 
yet to do that too, since it is pardonable in 
a friend: Not to slack you towards those 
friends which are religious in other clothes then 
we; (for Amici vitia si feras facis tua, is true of 
such faults) but to keep you awake against 
such as the place where you must live will often 
obtrude, which are not onely naked, without 
any fashion of such garments, but have 
neither the body of Religion, which is morall 
honestly, and sociable faithfulness, nor the 
soul, Christianity. I know not how this 
paper scaped last week which I send now; I 
was so sure that I enwrapped it then, that I 

should 



Persons of Honour, 27 

should be so still, but that I had but one copy; 
forgive it as you use to do. From Micham 
in as much haste, and with as ill Pen and Inke, 
as the letter can accuse me of; but with the 
last and the next weeks heart and affection. 

Yours very truely and affectionately 
J. Donne. 



txu.J 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

THis letter hath more merit, then one of 
more diligence, for I wrote it in my bed, 
and with much pain. I have occasion to sit 
late some nights in my study, (which your 
books make a prety library) and now I linde 
that that room hath a wholesome emblemat- 
ique use: for having under it a vault, I make 
that promise me, that I shall die reading, since 
my book and a grave are so near. But it hath 
another unwholesomenesse, that by raw vapors 
rising from thence, (for I can impute it to 
nothing else) I have contracted a sicknesse 
which I cannot name nor describe. For it 
hath so much of a continuall Cramp, that it 
wrests the sinews, so much of a Tetane, that 

it 



28 Letters to sever all 

it withdraws and puis the mouth, and so 
much of the Gout, (which they whose counsell 
I use, say it is) that it is not Hke to be cured, 
though I am too hasty in three days to pro- 
nounce it. If it be the Gout, I am miserable; 
for that affects dangerous parts, as my neck 
and brest, and (I think fearfully) my stomach, 
but it will not kill me yet; I shall be in this 
world, like a porter in a great house, ever 
nearest the door, but seldomest abroad : I shall 
have many things to make me weary, and yet 
not get leave to be gone. If I go, I will pro- 
vide by my best means that you suifer not for 
me, in your bonds. The estate which I 
should leave behinde me of any estimation, is 
my poor fame, in the memory of my friends, 
and therefore I would be curious of it, and 
provide that they repent not to have loved 
me. Since my imprisonment in my bed, I 
have made a meditation in verse, which I call 
a Litany; the word you know imports no 
other then supplication, but all Churches have 
one forme of supplication, by that name. 
Amongst ancient annals (I mean some 800 
years) I have met two Letanies in Latin verse, 
which gave me not the reason of my medita- 
tions, for in good faith I thought not upon 

them 



Persons of Honour, 29 

them then, but they give me a defence, if any 
man to a Lay man, and a private, impute it as 
a fault, to take such divine and publique 
names, to his own little thoughts. The first 
of these was made by Ratpertus a Monk of 
Suevia; and the other by S. Notker, of whom 
I will give you this note by the way, that he is 
a private Saint, for a few Parishes; they were 
both but Monks, and the Letanies poor and 
barbarous enough; yet Pope Nicolas the 5, 
valued their devotion so much, that he canon- 
ized both their Poems, and commanded them 
for publike service in their Churches: mine is 
for lesser Chappels, which are my friends, and 
though a copy of it were due to you, now, yet 
I am so unable to serve my self with writing 
it for you at this time, (being some 30 staves 
of 9 lines) that I must intreat you to take a 
promise that you shall have the first, for a 
testimony of that duty which I owe to your 
love, and to my self, who am bound to cherish 
it by my best offices. That by which it will 
deserve best acceptation, is, That neither the 
Roman Church need call it defective, because 
it abhors not the particular mention of the 
blessed Triumphers in heaven; nor the Re- 
formed can discreetly accuse it, of attributing 

more 



30 Letters to sever all 

more then a rectified devotion ought to doe. 
The day before I lay down, I was at London 
where I delivered your Letter for S' Ed. Con- 
way^ and received another for you, with the 
copy of my Book, of which it is impossible for 
me to give you a copy so soon, for it is not of 
much lesse then 300 pages. If I die, it shall 
come to you in that fashion that your Letter 
desires it. If I warm again, (as I have often 
seen such beggers as my indisposition is, end 
themselves soon, and the patient as soon) you 
and I shal speak together of that, before it be 
too late to serve you in that commandment. 
At this time I onely assure you, that I have 
not appointed it upon any person, nor ever 
purposed to print it: which later perchance 
you thought, and grounded your request 
thereupon. A Gent, that visited me yester- 
day told me that our Church hath lost M' 
Hugh Broughton, who is gone to the Roman 
side. I have known before, that Serarius the 
Jesuit was an instrument from Cardinall 
Baronius to draw him to Rome, to accept a 
stipend, onely to serve the Christian Churches 
in controversies with the Jews, without in- 
dangering himself to change of his perswasion 
in particular deductions between these Chris- 
tian 



Persons of Honour, 31 

tian Churches, or being enquired of, or 
tempted thereunto. And I hope he is no 
otherwise departed from us. If he be, we 
shall not escape scandall in it; because, though 
he be a man of many distempers, yet when he 
shall come to eat assured bread, and to be 
removed from partialities, to which want 
drove him, to make himself a reputation, and 
raise up favourers; you shall see in that course 
of opposing the Jews, he will produce worthy 
things: and our Church will perchance blush 
to have lost a Souldier fit for that great battell; 
and to cherish onely those single Duellisms, 
between Rome and England^ or that more 
single, and almost self-homicide, between the 
unconformed Ministers, and Bishops. I writ 
to you last week that the plague increased; by 

which you may see that my Letters 

-opinion of the song, not 



that I make such trifles for praise; but because 
as long as you speak comparatively of it with 
mine own, and not absolutely, so long I am 
of your opinion even at this time; when I 
humbly thank God, I ask & have, his comfort 
of sadder meditations; I doe not condemn in 
my self, that I have given my wit such evapo- 
rations, as those, if they be free from pro- 

phaneness 



32 Letters to sever all 

phaneness, or obscene provocations. S', you 
would pity me if you saw me write, and there- 
fore will pardon me if I write no more: my 
pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and 
holds it so, that mine eie cannot follow mine 
hand : I receive you therefore into my prayers, 
with mine own weary soul, and commend my 
self to yours. I doubt not but next week I 
shall be good news to you, for I have mending 
or dying on my side, which is two to one. If 
I continue thus, I shall have comfort in this, 
that my B. Saviour exercising his Justice upon 
my two worldly parts, my fortune, and body, 
reserves all his mercy for that which best tasts 
it, and most needs it, my soul. I professe to 
you truly, that my lothnesse to give over now, 
seems to my self an ill sign, that I shall write 

no more. 

Your -poor friend, and Gods poor patient, 
Jo. Donne. 

[xiii.j 

To my worthy and honoured friend M" George 

Garet. 

Sir, 

I Am sorry, if your care of me have made 
you importune to any body else; yet I can- 
not be very sorry because it gives new testi- 
monies 



Persons of Honour, 33 

monies of your favour to me, of which I shall 
ever be very glad, and (that which is my onely 
vertue) thankfull: so desperate fortunes as 
mine may well make friends loth to doe cur- 
tesies, because an inability in deserving or re- 
quiring takes from them the honour of having 
done a curtesie, and leaves it but the poor name 
of an alms; and alms may be given in easier 
proportions, and more meritoriously. But S', 
by what name or weight soever you esteem 
this kindnesse which you have done me, I 
value it so, as might alone perswade me of 
your care of me; in recompense of which, you 
must be pleased to accept new assurances that 
I am 

/ pray let my service be Your very affectionate servant, 

presented by you to J. Donne. 

M' Roope. 

[xiv.l 
To M*" George Caret. 
S I R, 

I Have not received that Letter, which by 
this, I perceive you sent to London; if there 
were anything in that, by which I might have 
taken occasion to have done you service before 
this time, I have a double reason of grief for 

the 



34 Letters to sever all 

the want of it. I came from thence upon 
Thursday, where I left Sir Tho. Roe so indul- 
gent to his sorrow, as it had been an injury to 
have interrupted it with my unusefull com- 
pany. I have done nothing of that kinde as 
your Letter intimates, in the memory of that 
good Gentlewoman; if I had, I should not 
finde any better use of it, then to put it into 
your hands. You teach me what I owe her 
memory; and if I pay that debt so, you have 
a part and interest in it, by doing me the 
honour of remembring it: and therefore it 
must come quickly to you. I hope not for 
return from Court, till I come thither; which 
if I can be master of my self, or servant to my 
self, which I think is all one, I hope to do 
some ten daies hence, making it my way to the 
Bathe. If you find any there that have not 
forgot my name, continue me in their favour, 
and hold in your self a firm assurance that I 
am 

Your affectionate servant 
J, Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour, 35 

[XV.] 

To M" Martha Caret. 
Madame, 

T Hough there be much merit, in the favour 
your brother hath done me in a visit, 
yet that which doth enrich and perfect it, is, 
that he brought you with him; which he doth, 
as well by letting me see how you do, as by 
giving me occasions, and leave to talk with you 
by this Letter: if you have any servant, which 
wishes you better then I, it must be because 
he is able to put his wishes into a better frame, 
and expresse them better, and understand pro- 
portion, and greatnesse better then I. I am 
willing to confesse my impotencie; which is, 
that I know no wish good enough for you; if 
any doe, my advantage is, that I can exceed 
his, by adding mine to it. You must not think 
that I begin to think thus, when you begin 
to hear it, by a Letter; As sometimes by the 
changing of the winde, you begin to hear a 
Trumpet, which sounded long before you 
heard it; so are these thoughts of you familiar 
and ordinary in me, though they have seldome 
the help of this conveyance to your knowledge: 
I am loth to leave; for as long as in any fashion, 

I 



36 



Letters to several! 



I can have your brother and you here, you 
make my house a kinde of Dorvey [Dorney]; 
but since I cannot stay you here, I will come 
thither to you; which I do, by wrapping up 
in this paper, the heart of 



Your most affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 



[xvi.] 
To Sir Thomas Roe. 

SIR, 

IT is an ease to your friends abroad, that 
you are more a man of businesse then here- 
tofore; for now it were an injury to trouble you 
with a busie Letter. But by the same reason 
I were inexcusable if I should not write at all, 
since the lesse, the more acceptable; therefore, 
Sir, though I have no more to say, but to re- 
new the obligations I have towards you, and to 
continue my place in your love, I would not 
forbear to tell you so. If I shall also tell you, 
that when this place affords any thing worth 
your hearing, I will be your relator, I think 
I take so long a day, as you would forget the 
debt, it appears yet to be so barren. Howso- 
ever with every commodity, I shall say some- 
thing 



Persons of Honour. 37 

thing, though it be but a descant upon this 
plain song, that I am 

Your affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 



[xvii.J 
To all my friends: Sir H. Goodere. 
SIR, 

I Am not weary of writing; it is the course 
but durable garment of my love; but I 
am weary of wanting you. I have a minde 
like those bodies, which have hot Livers, and 
cold stomachs; or such a distemper as travelled 
me at Paris; a Fever, and dysentery : in which 
that which is physick to one infirmity, nour- 
ishes the other. So I abhor nothing more 
then sadnesse, except the ordinary remedy, 
change of company. I can allow my self to 
be Animal sociale, appliable to my company, 
but not gregale, to herd my self in every troup. 
It is not perfectly true which a very subtil, yet 
very deep wit. Averroes says, that all mankinde 
hath but one soul, which informes and rules us 
all, as one Intelligence doth the firmament 
and all the Starres in it; as though a particu- 
lar body were too little an organ for a soul to 

play 



38 



Letters to severall 



. play upon. And it is as imperfect which is 
taught by that reHgion w*" is most accom- 
modate to sense (I dare not say to reason 
(though it have appearance of that too) be- 
cause none may doubt but that that reHgion 
is certainly best, which is reasonablest) That 
all mankinde hath one protecting Angel; all 
Christians one other, all English one other, all 
of one Corporation and every civill coagulation 
or society one other; and every man one other. 
Though both these opinions expresse a truth; 
which is, that mankinde hath very stronge 
bounds to cohabit and concurre in other then 
mountains and hills during his life. First, 
common, and mutuall necessity of one an- 
other; and therefore naturally in our defence 
and subventions we first flie to our selves; 
next, to that which is likest, other men. 
Then, naturall and inborn charity, beginning 
at home, which perswades us to give, that we 
may receive: And legall charity, which makes 
us also forgive. Then an ingraffing in one 
another, and growing together by a custome 
of society: and last of all, strict friendship, in 
which band men were so presumed to be 
coupled, that our Confessor King had a law, 
that if a man be killed, the murderer shall pay 

a 



Persons of Honour, 39 

a sum felago suo, which the interpreters call, 
fide ligato, et comite vitce. All these bands I 
willingly receive, for no man is lesse of himself 
then I: nor any man enough of himself. To 
be so, is all one with omnipotence. And it is 
well marked, that in the holy Book, whereso- 
ever they have rendered Almighty, the word 
is Self-sufficient. I think sometimes that the 
having a family should remove me farre from 
the curse of Vcb soli. But in so strict obliga- 
tion of Parent, or Husband, or Master, (and 
perchance it is so in the last degree of friend- 
ship) where all are made one, I am not the 
lesse alone, for being in the midst of them. 
Therefore this oleum Icetitice, this balme, of our 
lives, this alacrity which dignifies even our 
service to God, this gallant enemy of dejection 
and sadnesse, (for which and wickednesse the 
Italian allows but one word, Triste: And in 
full condemnation whereof it was prophesied 
of our blessed Saviour, Non erit tristis, in his 
conversation) must be sought and preserved 
diligently. And since it grows without us, we 
must be sure to gather It from the right tree. 
They which place this alacrity only in a good 
conscience, deal somewhat too roundly with 
us, for when we aske the way, they shew us the 

town 



40 Letters to severall 

town afar off: Will a Physitian consulted for 
health and strength, bid you have good 
sinews and equall temper? It is true, that 
this conscience is the resultance of all other 
particular actions; it is our triumph and ban- 
quet in the haven; but I would come towards 
that also, (as Mariners say) with a merry 
winde. Our nature is Meteorique, we respect 
(because we partake so) both earth and 
heaven, for as our bodies glorified shall be ca- 
pable of spirituall joy, so our souls demerged 
into those bodies, are allowed to partake 
earthly pleasure. Our soul is not sent hither, 
only to go back again: we have some errand 
to do here: nor is it sent into prison, because it 
comes innocent: and he which sent it, is just. 
As we may not kill our selves, so we may not 
bury our selves: which is done or endangered 
in a dull Monastique sadnesse, which is so 
much worse then jolity (for upon that word I 

durst 

— And certainly despair is infinitely worse, then 
presumption: both because this is an excesse 
of love, that of fear; and because this is up, 
that down the hill; easier, and more stumbling. 
Heaven is expressed by singing, hell by weep- 
ing. And though our blessed Saviour be never 

noted 



Persons of Honour. 41 

noted to have laughed, yet his continuance 
[countenance] is said ever to be smiling. And 
that even moderate mirth of heart, and face, 
and [is] all I wish to my self; and perswade you 
to keep. This alacrity is not had by a general 
charity and equanimity to all mankinde, for 
that is to seek fruit in a wildernesse: nor from 
a singular friend, for that is to ketch it out of 
your own pocket: but the various and abun- 
dant grace of it, is good company. In which 
no rank, no number, no quality, but ill, and 
such a degree of that as may corrupt and poy- 
son the good, is exempt. For in nearer then 
them, your friend, and somewhat nearer then 
he, in your self you must allow some inordi- 
natenesse of affections and passions. For it 
is not true that they are not natural, but 
stormes and tempests of our bloud and 
humours: for they are naturall, but sickly. 
And as the Indian priests expressed an excellent 
charity, by building Hospitalls and providing 
chirurgery for birds and beasts lamed by mis- 
chance, or age, or labour: so must we, not cut 
off, but cure these affections, which are the 
bestiall part. 



To 



42 Letters to several! 

[xviii.] 
To Sir H. Goodere. 

SIR, 

EVery tuesday I make account that I turn 
a great hour-glass, and consider that a 
weeks life is run out since I writ. But if I aske 
my self what I have done in the last watch, 
or would do in the next, I can say nothing; 
if I say that I have passed it without hurting 
any, so may the Spider in my window. The 
primitive Monkes were excusable in their re- 
tirings and enclosures of themselves: for even 
of them every one cultivated his own garden 
and orchard, that is, his soul and body, by 
meditation, and manufactures; and they ought 
the world no more since they consumed none 
of her sweetnesse, nor begot others to burden 
her. But for me, if I were able to husband 
all my time so thriftily, as not onely not to 
wound my soul in any minute by actuall sinne, 
but not to rob and cousen her by giving any 
part to pleasure or businesse, but bestow it all 
upon her in meditation, yet even in that I 
should wound her more, and contract another 
guiltinesse: As the Eagle were very unnaturall 
if because she is able to do it, she should 

pearch 



Persons of Honour. 43 

pearch a whole day upon a tree, staring in con- 
templation of the majestic and glory of the 
Sun, and let her young Eglets starve in the 
nest. Two of the most precious things which 
God hath afforded us here, for the agony and 
exercise of our sense and spirit, which are a 
thirst and inhiation after the next life, and a 
frequency of prayer and meditation in this, 
are often envenomed, and putrefied, and stray 
into a corrupt disease: for as God doth thus 
occasion, and positively concurre to evill, that 
when a man is purposed to do a great sin, God 
infuses some good thoughts which make him 
choose a lesse sin, or leave out some circum- 
stance which aggravated that; so the devill 
doth not only suffer but provoke us to some 
things naturally good, upon condition that we 
shall omit some other more necessary and 
more obligatory. And this is his greatest 
subtilty; because herein we have the deceitfull 
comfort of having done well, and can very 
hardly spie our errour because it is but an 
insensible omission, and no accusing act. 
With the first of these I have often suspected 
my self to be overtaken; which is, with a de- 
sire of the next life : which though I know it is 
not merely out of a wearinesse of this, because 

I 



44 Letters to several/ 

I had the same desires when I went with the 
tyde, and enjoyed fairer hopes then now: yet 
I doubt worldly encombrances have en- 
creased it. I would not that death should 
take me asleep. I would not have him meerly 
seise me, and onely declare me to be dead, but 
win me, and overcome me. When I must 
shipwrack, I would do it in a Sea, where mine 
impotencie might have some excuse; not in a 
sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so 
much as exercise for my swimming. There- 
fore I would fain do something; but that I can- 
not tell what, is no wonder. For to chuse, is 
to do: but to be no part of any body, is to be 
nothing. At most, the greatest persons, are 
but great wens, and excrescences; men of wit 
and delightful! conversation, but as moalls for 
ornament, except they be so incorporated into 
the body of the world, that they contribute 
something to the sustentation of the whole. 
This I made account that I begun early, when 
I understood the study of our laws: but was 
diverted by the worst voluptuousnes, which 
is an Hydroptique immoderate desire of 
humane learning and languages: beautiful! 
ornaments to great fortunes; but mine needed 
an occupation, and a course which I thought 

I 



Persons of Honour. 45 

I entred well into, when I submitted my self 
to such a service, as I thought might im- 
ploy[ed] those poor advantages, which I had. 
And there I stumbled too, yet I would try 
again: for to this hour I am nothing, or so 
little, that I am scarce subject and argument 
good enough for one of mine own letters: yet 
I fear, that doth not ever proceed from a good 
root, that I am so well content to be lesse, 
that is dead. You, Sir, are farre enough from 
these descents, your vertue keeps you secure, 
and your naturall disposition to mirth will 
preserve you; but lose none of these holds, a 
slip Is often as dangerous as a bruise, and 
though you cannot fall to my lownesse, yet 
in a much lesse distraction you may meet my 
sadnesse, for he is no safer which falls from an 
high tower into the leads, then he which falls 
from thence to the ground: make therefore to 
your self some mark, and go towards it alegre- 
ment. Though I be in such a planetary and 
erratique fortune, that I can do nothing con- 
stantly, yet you may iinde some constancy in 
my constant advising you to it. 

Your hearty true friend 

J. Donne. 



46 



Letters to severall 



I came this evening from M. Jones his house 
in Essex, where M. Martin hath been, and left 
a relation of Captain Whitcocks [Whitelock's] 
death, perchance it is no news to you, but it was 
to me; without doubt want broke him; for when 
M. Hollands company by reason of the plague 
broke, the Captain sought to be at A/"^ Jones 
house, who on her husbands absence declining it, 
he went in the night, his boy carrying his cloak- 
bag, on foot to the Lord of Sussex, who going next 
day to hunt, the Captain not then sick, told him 
he would see him no more. A Chaplain came 
up to him, to whom he delivered an account of 
his understanding, and I hope, of his belief e, 
and soon after dyed; and my Lord hath buryed 
him with his own Ancestors. Perchance his 
life needed a longer sicknesse, but a man may go 
faster and safer, when he enjoys that day light 
of a clear and sound understanding, then in the 
night or twilight of an ague or other disease. 
And the grace of Almighty God doth every thing 
suddenly and hastily, but depart from us, it en- 
lightens us, warms us, heats us, ravishes us, 
at once. Such a medicin, I fear, his inconsider- 
ation needed; and I hope as confidently that he 
had it. As our soul is infused when it is created, 
and created wfien it is infused, so at her going out, 

Gods 



Persons of Honour, 47 

Gods mercy is had by asking, and that is asked 
by having. Lest your Polesworth carrier should 
cousen me, I send my man with this letter early 
to London, whither this Tuesday all the Court 
come to a Christening at Arondell house, and 
stay in town so that I will sup with the good Lady, 
and write again to-morrow to you, if any thing 
be occasioned there, which concerns you, and I 
will tell her so; next day they are to return to 
Hampton, and upon friday the King to Roy- 
ston. 

[xlx.] 
To Sir H. Goodere. 
SIR, 

IF this which I send you inclosed give me 
right intelligence, I present you a way by 
which you may redeem all your former wastes, 
and recompense your ill fortunes, in having 
sometimes apprehended unsuccessfull suits, 
and (that which I presume you affect most) 
ease your self from all future inquisition of 
widowes or such businesses as aske so over 
industrious a pursuit, as devest a man from 
his best happinesse of enjoying himself. I 
give you (I think) the first knowledge, of two 
millions confiscated to the Crown of England : 

of 



48 



Letters to several! 



of which I dare assure myself the coffers have 
yet touched none; nor have the Commissioners 
for suits any thing to oppose against a suit 
founded upon this confiscation, though they 
hold never so strictly to their instructions. 
After you have served your self with a pro- 
portion, I pray make a petition in my name 
for as much as you think may be given me for 
my book out of this ; for, but out of this, I have 
no imagination. And for a token of my de- 
sire to serve him, present M. Fowler with 3 or 
4000 li. of this since he was so resolved never 
to leave his place, without a suit of that 
value. I wish your cousen in the town, better 
provided; but if he be not, here is enough for 
him. And since I am ever an affectionate 
servant to that journey, acquaint M. Martin 
from me, how easie it will be to get a good part 
of this for Virginia. Upon the least petition 
that M, Brook can present he may make him- 
self whole again, of all which the Kings ser- 
vants M. Lepton and master Waterouse, have 
endammaged him. Give him leave to offer 
to M. Hakevill enough to please himself, for his 
Aurum RegincB. And if M. Gherard have no 
present hopefull designe upon a worthy 
Widow, let him have so much of this as will 

provide 



Persons of Honour. 49 

provide him that house and coach which he 
promised to lend me at my return. If M. 
Inago Jones be not satisfied for his last Maske 
(because I hear say it cannot come to much) 
here is enough to be had: This is but a copy, 
but if Sir Ro. Cotton have the originall he will 
not deny it you; if he hath it not, no body else 
hath it, nor can prevent you; husband it well, 
which you may easily doe, because I assure 
my self none of the children nor friends of the 
party condemned will crosse you or impor- 
tune the King for any part. If I get no more 
by it, yet it hath made me a Letter. And Sir 
(to depart from this Mine) in what part of my 
Letters soever you find the remembrance of 
my humble service to my Lord of Bedford^ I 
beseech you ever think them intended for the 
first, and in that ranke present them. I have 
yet received but one Letter from you which 
was of the lo of December by M. Pory, but you 
see that as long as there is one egge left in the 
nest, I never leave laying, nor should although 
you had sent none since; all at last will not 
amount to so good a testimony as I would fain 
give how much I am 

Your affectionate servant and lover, 
J. Donne. 

Sir 



56 Letters to sever all 

Siff I write this Letter in no very great degree 
of a convalescence from such storms of a stomach 
colick as kept me in a continual! vomiting, so 
that I know not what I should have been able to 
doe to dispatch this winde, but that an honest fever 
came and was my physick: I tell you of it onely 
lest some report should make it worse, for me 
thinks that they who love to adde to news should 
think it a master-piece to be able to say no worse 
of any ill fortune of mine then it deserves, since 
commonly it deserves worse then they can say, 
but they did not, and I am reprieved. I finde 
dying to be like those facts which denying makes 
felony: when a sicknesse examines us, and we 
confess that we are willing to die, we cannot, but 

those who are incurre the penalty: and I may 

die yet, if talking idly be an ill sign. God be 
with you. 

[XX.] 

To the same. 

SIR, 

IT Is in our State ever held for a good sign 
to change Prison, and nella Signoria de mi, 
I will think it so, that my sicknesse hath given 
me leave to come to my London-prison. I 

made 



Persons of Honour. r i 

made no doubt but my entrance-pain (for it 
was so rather then a sicknesse, but that my 
sadnesse putrefied and corrupted it to that 
name) affected you also; for nearer Contracts 
then generall Christianity, had made us so 
much towards one [another], that one part can- 
not escape the distemper of the other. I was 
therefore very carefull, as well to slack any 
sorrow which my danger might occasion in 
you; as to give you the comfort of having been 
heard in your prayers for me, to tell you as 
soon as my pain remitted what steps I made 
towards health, which I did last week. This 
Tuesday morning your man brought me a 
Letter, which (if he had not found me at Lon- 
don) I see he had a hasty commandment to 
have brought to Micham. S', though my 
fortune hath made me such as I am, rather a 
sicknesse and disease of the world then any 
part of it, yet I esteemed my self so far from 
being so to you, as I esteemed you to be far 
from being so of the world, as to measure men 
by fortune or events. I am now gone so far 
towards health, as there is not infirmity 
enough left in me for an assurance of so much 
noblenesse and truth, as your last Letter is to 
work upon, that might cure a greater indis- 
position 



52 Letters to sever all 

position then I am now in: And though if I 
had died, I had not gone without testimonies 
of such a disposition in you towards the repara- 
tion of my fortune, or preservation of my poor 
reputation; yet I would Hve, and be some such 
thing as you might not be ashamed to love. 
Your man must send away this hour in which 
he visits me; and I have not yet (for I came 
last night) offered to visit my La. Bedford, and 
therefore have nothing to say which should 
make me grudge this straitnesse of time. He 
tels me he sends again upon Thursday, and 
therefore I will make an end of this Letter, 
and perfect it then. I doubt my Letters have 
not come duly to your hand, and that I writ- 
ing in my dungeon of Michim without dating 
have made the Chronologic and sequence of 
my Letters perplexed to you; howsoever you 
shall not be rid of this Ague of my Letters, 
though perchance the fit change daies. I have 
received in a narrow compasse three of yours, 
one with the Catalogue of your Books, another 
I found here left last Saterday by your man, 
and this which he brought me this morning. 
Sir, I dare sit no longer in my wastcoat, nor 
have any thing worth the danger of a relapse 
to write. I owe you so much of my health, as 

I 



Persons of Honour. 53 

I would not mingle you in any occasion of re- 
pairing it, and therefore here ask leave to kisse 
your hands, and bid you good morrow and 
farewell. 

Your very true friend and servant 
J. Donne. 



[xxi.] 
To S' H. G. 



Sir, 



IT should be no interruption to your pleas- 
ures, to hear me often say that I love you, 
and that you are as much my meditation as 
my self: I often compare not you and me, but 
the sphear in which your resolutions are, and 
my wheel; both I hopeconcentrique to God: for 
methinks the new Astronomic is thus appliable 
well, that we which are a little earth, should 
rather move towards God, then that he which 
is fulfilling, and can come no whither, should 
move towards us. To your life full of variety, 
nothing is old, nor new to mine; and as to that 
life, all stickings and hesitations seem stupid 
and stony, so to this, all fluid slipperinesses, 
and transitory migrations seem giddie and 
featherie. In that life one is ever in the porch 

or 



54 Letters to sever all 

or postern, going in or out, never within his 
house himself: It is a garment made of rem- 
nants, a Hfe raveld out into ends, a Hne dis- 
continued, and a number of small wretched 
points, uselesse, because they concurre not: 
A life built of past and future, not proposing 
any constant present; they have more pleas- 
ures then we, but not more pleasure; they joy 
oftner, we longer; and no man but of so much 
understanding as may deliver him from being 
a fool, would change with a mad-man, which 
had a better proportion of wit in his often 
Lucidis. You know, they which dwell far- 
thest from the Sun, if in any convenient dis- 
tance, have longer dales, better appetites, 
better digestion, better growth, and longer 
life: And all these advantages have their 
mindes who are well removed from the scorch- 
ings, and dazlings, and exhalings of the worlds 
glory: but neither of our lives are in such 
extremes; for you living at Court without am- 
bition, which would burn you, or envy, which 
would devest others, live in the Sun, not in the 
fire: And I which live in the Country without 
stupefying, am not in darknesse, but in shadow 
which is not no light, but a pallid, water- 
ish, and diluted one. As all shadows are of 

one 



Persons of Honour. 55 

one colour, If you respect the body from which 
they are cast (for our shadows upon clay will 
be dirty, and in a garden green, and flowery) 
so all retirings into a shadowy life are alike 
from all causes, and alike subject to the bar- 
barousnesse and insipid dulnesse of the Coun- 
try; onely the emploiment, and that upon 
which you cast and bestow your pleasure, 
businesse, or books, gives it the tincture, and 
beauty. But truly wheresoever we are, if we 
can but tell our selves truly what and where 
we would be, we may make any state and 
place such; for we are so composed, that if 
abundance, or glory scorch and melt us, we 
have an earthly cave, our bodies, to go Into by 
consideration, and cool our selves: and If we 
be frozen, and contracted with lower and dark 
fortunes, we have within us a torch, a soul, 
lighter and warmer then any without: we are 
therefore our own umbrella's, and our own 
suns. These, Sir, are the sallads and onions 
of Micham, sent to you with as wholesome 
affection as your other friends send Melons 
and Quelque-choses from Court and London. 
If I present you not as good diet as they, I 
would yet say grace to theirs, and bid much 
good do It you. I send you, with this, a Letter 

which 



56 



Letters to several/ 



which I sent to the Countesse. It is not my 
use nor duty to doe so, but for your having 
of it, there were but two consents, and I am 
sure you have mine, and you are sure you have 
hers. I also writ to her La^ for the verses she 
shewed in the garden, which I did not onely to 
extort them, nor onely to keep my promise 
of writing, for that I had done in the other 
Letter, and perchance she hath forgotten the 
promise; nor onely because I think my Letters 
just good enough for a progresse, but because 
I would write apace to her, whilest it is pos- 
sible to expresse that which I yet know of her, 
for by this growth I see how soon she will be 
ineffable. 



[XXU.J 

SIR, 

T Hough my friendship be good for nothing 
else, it may give you the profit of a ten- 
tation, or of an affliction: It may excuse your 
patience; and though it cannot allure, it shall 
importune you. Though I know you have 
many worthy friends of all rankes, yet I adde 
something, since I which am of none, would 
fain be your friend too. There is some of the 

honour 



Persons of Honour. 57 

honour and some of the degrees of a Creation, 
to make a friendship of nothing. Yet, not to 
annihilate my self utterly (for though it seem 
humblenesse, yet It Is a work of as much al- 
mightlnesse, to bring a thing to nothing, as 
from nothing) though I be not of the best 
stuife for friendship, which men of warm and 
durable fortunes only are, I cannot say, that 
I am not of the best fashion, If truth and 
honesty be that; which I must ever exercise, 
towards you, because I learned It of you: for 
the conversation with worthy men, and of 
good example, though It sow not vertue In 
us, yet produceth and ripeneth It. Your mans 
haste, and mine to Micham cuts off this Letter 
here, yet, as in llttell paterns torn from a 
whole piece, this may tell you what all I am. 
Though by taking me before my day (which I 
accounted Tuesday) I make short payment 
of this duty of Letters, yet I have a little com- 
fort in this, that you see me hereby, willing to 
pay those debts which I can, before my time. 

First Saturday in Your affectionate friend 

March. 1607. J. Donne. 

You forget to send me the Apology; and many 
times, I think it an injury to remember one of a 

promise 



58 



Letters to several/ 



promise, lest it confesse a distrust. But of the 
book, by occasion of reading the Deans answer 
to it, I have sometimes some want. 

[xxiii.] 
To the Countesse of Bedford. 

Happiest and worthiest Lady, 

I Do not remember that ever I have seen a 
petition In verse, I would not therefore 
be singular, nor adde these to your other 
papers. I have yet adventured so near as to 
make a petition for verse, it is for those your 
Ladiship did me the honour to see in Twicknam 
garden, except you repent your making; and 
having mended your judgement by thinking 
worse, that Is, better, because juster, of their 
subject. They must needs be an excellent 
exercise of your wit, which speaks so well of so 
ill : I humbly beg them of your Ladiship, with 
two such promises, as to any other of your 
compositions were threatenings : that I will 
not shew them, and that I will not beleeve 
them; and nothing should be so used that 
comes from your brain or heart. If I should 
confesse a fault in the boldnesse of asking 
them, or make a faulte by doing it in a longer 

Letter 



Persons of Honour. 59 

Letter, your Ladiship might use your style 
and old fashion of the Court towards me, and 
pay me with a Pardon. Here therefore I 
humbly kisse your Ladiships fair learned 
hands, and wish you good wishes and speedy 
grants. 

YouT Ladiships servant 
J. Donne. 

[xxiv.j 
To the Honourable Knight Sir H. Goodere. 

BEcause things be conserved by the same 
means, which established them, I nurse 
that friendship by Letters, which you begot 
so: though you have since strengthened it by 
more solid aliment and real offices. In these 
Letters from the Country there is this merit, 
that I do otherwise unwillingly turn mine eye 
or thoughts from my books, companions in 
whom there is no falshood nor forwardnesse: 
which words, I am glad to observe that the 
holy Authours often joyne as expressers and 
relatives to one another, because else out of 
a naturall descent to that unworthy fault 
of frowardnesse, furthered with that incom- 
modity of a little thinne house; I should have 
mistaken it to be a small thing, which now I 

\ see 



6o Letters to sever all 

see equalled with the worst. If you have laid 
my papers and books by, I pray let this mes- 
senger have them, I have determined upon 
them. If you have not, be content to do it, in 
the next three or four days. So, Sir, I kisse 
your hands; and deliver to you an intire and 
clear heart; which shall ever when I am with 
you be in my face and tongue, and when I am 
from you, in my Letters, for I will never draw 
Curtain between you and it. 

From your house at Yours very affectionately 

Micham/n(/ay morning. J, Donne. 

When you are sometimes at M. Sackvills, / 
pray aske if he have this hook, Baldvinus de 
officio pii hominis in controversiis ; it was writ- 
ten at the conference at Poissy, where Beza was, 
and he anszuered it; I long for it. 



[xxv.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Hope you are now well come to London, and 
well, and well comforted in your Fathers 
health and love, and well contented that we 
ask you how you doe, and tell you how we are, 

which 



Persons of Honour. 6i 

which yet I cannot of my self; If I knew that 
I were ill, I were well; for we consist of three 
parts, a Soul, and Body, and Minde: which I 
call those thoughts and affections and pas- 
sions, which neither soul nor body hath alone, 
but have been begotten by their communica- 
tion, as Musique results out of our breath and 
a Cornet. And of all these the diseases are 
cures, if they be known. Of our souls sick- 
nesses, which are sinnes, the knowledge is, to 
acknowledge, and that is her Physique, in 
which we are not dieted by drams and scruples, 
for we cannot take too much. Of our bodies 
infirmities, though our knowledge be partly 
ah extrinseco, from the opinion of the Physi- 
tian, and that the subject and matter be flex- 
ible, and various; yet their rules are certain, 
and if the matter be rightly applyed to the 
rule, our knowledge thereof is also certain. 
But of the diseases of the minde, there is no 
Criterium, no Canon, no rule; for, our own 
taste and apprehension and interpretation 
should be the Judge, and that is the disease it 
self. Therefore sometimes when I finde my 
self transported with jollity, and love of com- 
pany, I hang Leads at my heels; and reduce 
to my thoughts my fortunes, my years, the 

duties 



62 Letters to sever all 

duties of a man, of a friend, of a husband, of a 
Father, and all the incumbencies of a family: 
when sadnesse dejects me, either I counter- 
mine it with another sadnesse, or I kindle 
squibs about me again, and flie into sportful- 
nesse and company : and I finde ever after all, 
that I am like an exorcist, which had long 
laboured about one, which at last appears to 
have the Mother, that I still mistake my 
disease. And I still vex my self with this, 
because if I know it not, no body can know it. 
And I comfort my self, because I see dispas- 
sioned men are subject to the like ignorances. 
For divers mindes out of the same thing 
often draw contrary conclusions, as Augustine 
thought devout Anthony to be therefore full 
of the holy Ghost, because not being able to 
read, he could say the whole Bible, and inter- 
pret it; and Thyreus the Jesuit for the same 
reason doth thinke all the Anabaptists to be 
possessed. And as often out of contrary 
things men draw one conclusion: as to the 
Roman Church, magnificence and splendor 
hath ever been an argument of Gods favour, 
and poverty & affliction, to the Greek. Out 
of this variety of mindes it proceeds, that 
though all our souls would goe to one end. 

Heaven 



Persons of Honour, 63 

Heaven, and all our bodies must go to one end, 
the earth: yet our third part the minde, which 
is our naturall guide here, chooses to every 
man a severall way: scarce any man likes 
what another doth, nor advisedly, that which 
himself. But Sir, I am beyond my purpose; 
I meant to write a Letter, and I am fallen into 
a discourse, and I do not only take you from 
some businesse, but I make you a new busi- 
nesse by drawing you into these meditations. 
In which yet let my opennesse be an argument 
of such love as I would fain expresse in some 
worthier fashion. 

[xxvi.] 
To Sir G. F. 

SIR, 

I Writ to you once this week before; yet I 
write again, both because it seems a kinde 
of resisting of grace, to omit any commodity 
of sending into England, and because any 
Pacquet from me into England should go, not 
only without just fraight, but without ballast, 
if it had not a letter to you. In Letters that 
I received from Sir H. Wotton yesterday from 
Amyens, I had one of the 8 of March from you, 

and 



64 



Letters to several/ 



and with it one from M" Danterey^ of the 28 
of January: which is a strange disproportion. 
But, Sir, if our Letters come not in due order, 
and so make not a certain and concurrent 
chain, yet if they come as Atomes, and so 
meet at last, by any crooked, and casuall 
application, they make up, and they nourish 
bodies of friendship; and in that fashion, I 
mean one way or other, first or last, I hope 
all the Letters which have been addressed to 
us by one another, are safely arrived, except 
perchance that pacquet by the Cook be not, 
of which before this time you are cleare; for I 
received (as I told you) a Letter by M. Nat. 
Rich, and if you sent none by him, then it 
was that Letter, which the Cook tells you he 
delivered to M. Rich; which, with all my criti- 
cismes, I cannot reconcile; because in your 
last Letter, I find mention of things formerly 
written, which I have not found. However, 
I am yet in the same perplexity, which I men- 
tioned before; which is, that I have received 
no syllable, neither from her self, nor by any 
other, how my wife hath passed her danger, 
nor do I know whether I be increased by a 
childe, or diminished by the losse of a wife. 
I hear from England of many censures of my 

book 



Persons of Honour. 65 

book, of M"^ Drury; If any of those censures 
do but pardon me my descent in Printing any 
thing in verse, (which if they do, they are more 
charitable then my self; for I do not pardon 
my self, but confesse that I did it against my 
conscience, that is, against my own opinion, 
that I should not have done so) I doubt not 
but they will soon give over that other part 
of that indictment, which Is that I have said 
so much; for no body can Imagine, that I who 
never saw her, could have any other purpose 
in that, then that when I had received so very 
good testimony of her worthlnesse, and was 
gone down to print verses, It became me to 
say, not what I was sure was just truth, but 
the best that I could conceive; for that had 
been a new weaknesse In me, to have praised 
any body in printed verses, that had not been 
capable of the best praise that I could give. 
Presently after Easter we shall (I think) go to 
Frankford to be there at the election, where 
we shall meet Sir //. Wotton and Sir Ro. Rich, 
and after that we are determined to passe 
some time, In the Palatinate. I go thither 
with a great deale of devotion for me thinkes 
it Is a new kinde of piety, that as Pilgrims 
went heretofore to places which had been holy 

and 



66 Letters to several! 

and happy, so I go to a place now, which shall 
be so, and more, by the presence of the 
worthiest Princess of the world, if that mar- 
riage proceed. I have no greater errand to 
the place then that at my return into England^ 
I may be fitter to stand in her presence, and 
that after I have seen a rich and abundant 
Countrey, in his best seasons, I may see that 
Sun which shall always keep it in that height. 
Howsoever we stray, if you have leasure to 
write at any time, adventure by no other 
way, then M. Bruer [Brewer], at the Queens 
Armes, a Mercer, in Cheapside. I shall omit 
no opportunity, of which I doubt not to finde 
more then one before we go from Paris. 
Therefore give me leave to end this, in which 
If you did not finde the remembrance of my 
humblest services to my Lady Bedford, your 
love and faith ought to try all the experiments 
of ponders, and dryings, and waterings to dis- 
cover some lines which appeared not; because 
it is impossible that a Letter should come from 
me, with such an ungrateful silence. 

Your very true poor friend and 
servant and lover 
J. Donne. 

This 



Persons of^ Honour. 6j 

This day begins a history, of which I doubt 
not but I shall write more to you before I leave 
this tozvn. Monsieur de Rohan, a person for 
birth, next heire to the Kingdome of Navar, after 
the Kings children, {if the King of Spaine were 
weary of it) and for allyance, sonne in law to D. 
Sully, and for breeding in the wars and estate, 
the most renarkable man of the Religion, being 
Governour of S. Jean d'Angeli, one of the most 
important towns which they of the Religion hold 
for their security, finding that some distasts be- 
tween the Lieutenant and the Maior of the town, 
and him, were dangerously fomented by great 
persons, stole from Court, rode post to the town 
and removed these two persons. He sent his 
secretary, and another dependent of his to give 
the Queen satisfaction, who is so far from receiv- 
ing it, that his messengers are committed to the 
Bastile likely to be presently tortured; all his 
friends here commanded to their houses, and the 
Queens companies of light horse sent already 
thitherward, and foot companies preparing, 
which troops being sent against a place, so much 
concerning those of the Religion to keep, and 
where they abound in number and strength, can- 
not chuse but produce effects worthy your hear- 
ing in the next Letter. 

To 



68 Letters to several I 



[XXVll.J 

To Sir H. G. 
SIR, 

BEcause I am In a place and season where 
I see every thing bud forth, I must do 
so too, and vent some of my meditations to 
you; the rather because all other buds being 
yet without taste or virtue, my Letters may 
be like them. The pleasantnesse of the season 
displeases me. Every thing refreshes, and I 
wither, and I grow older and not better, my 
strength diminishes, and my load growes, and 
being to passe more and more stormes, I finde 
that I have not only cast out all my ballast 
which nature and time gives. Reason and 
discretion, and so am as empty and light as 
Vanity can make me; but I have over fraught 
my self with Vice, and so am riddingly subject 
to two contrary wrackes, Sinking and Over- 
setting, and under the iniquity of such a 
disease as inforces the patient when he is 
almost starved, not only to fast, but to purge. 
For I have much to take in, and much to cast 
out; sometimes I thinke it easier to discharge 
my self of vice then of vanity, as one may 
sooner carry the fire out of a room then the 

smoake 



Persons of Honour. 69 

smoake: and then I see it was a new vanity to 
think so. And when I think sometimes that 
vanity, because it is thinne and airie, may be 
expelled with vertue or businesse, or substan- 
tial! vice; I finde that I give entrance thereby 
to new vices. Certainly as the earth and 
water, one sad, the other fluid, make but one 
bodie: so to aire and Vanity, there is but one 
Centiwm morbi. And that which later Physi- 
cians say of our bodies, is fitter for our mindes: 
for that which they call Destruction, which is 
a corruption and want of those fundamental! 
parts whereof we consist, is Vice: and that 
Collectio stercorum, which is but the excrement 
of that corruption, is our Vanity and indis- 
cretion: both these have but one root in me, 
and must be pulled out at once, or never. 
But I am so farre from digging to it, that I 
know not where it is, for it is not in mine eyes 
only, but in every sense, nor in my concupi- 
scence only, but in every power and affection. 
Sir, I was willing to let you see how impotent 
a man you love, not to dishearten you from 
doing so still (for my vices are not infectious 
nor wandring, they came not yesterday, nor 
mean to go away to day: they Inne not, but 
dwell in me, and see themselves so welcome, 

and 



70 Letters to sever all 

and find in me so good bad company of one 
another, that they will not change, especially 
to one not apprehensive, nor easily accessible) 
but I do it, that your counsell might cure me, 
and if you deny that, your example shal, for 
I will as much strive to be like you as I will 
wish you to continue good. 



xxvm. 



To the Honourable Kt S' H. Goodere one of the 
Gent, of his Majesties -privy Chamber. 

SIR, 

YOU may remember that long since you 
delivered M'" Fowler possession of me, 
but the wide distance in which I have lived 
from Court, makes me reasonably fear, that 
now he knows not his right and power in me, 
though he must of necessity have all, to whom 
you and I joyn in a gift of me, as we did to 
him, so that perchance he hath a servant of me, 
which might be passed in a book of conceal- 
ment. If your leisure suffer it, I pray finde 
whether I be in him still, and conserve me in 
his love; and so perfect your own work, or doe 
it over again, and restore me to the place, 
which by your favour I had in him. For M'" 

Powell 



Persons of Honour. 71 

Powell who serves her Ma*^ as Clerk of her 
counsell, hath told me that M'" Fowler hath 
some purpose to retire himself; and therefore 
I would fain for all my love, have so much of 
his, as to finde him willing when I shall seek 
him at Court, to let me understand his pur- 
pose therein; for if my means may make me 
acceptable to the Queen and him, I should be 
very sorry he should make so farre steps 
therein with any other, that I should fail in it, 
onely for not having spoke to him soon enough. 
It were an injury to the forwardnesse of your 
love to adde more; here therefore I kisse your 
hands, and commend to you the truth of my 
love. 

From my lodging in the Strand, Your very affectionate 
zvhither I shall return on Mun- servant and lover 
^^Y^ 13 June 1607. Jo. Donne. 

[xxix.j 
To Sr H. G. 

SIR, 

YOU husband my time thriftily, when you 
command me to write by such a mes- 
senger, as can tell you more then I can write, 
for so he doth not onely carry the Letter, but 

is 



72 Letters to sever all 

is the Letter. But that the naming of some 
things, may give you occasion to ask him far- 
ther, and him to open himself unto you, give 
me leave to tell you, that the now Spa. Em- 
bassadour proceeds in the old pace, the King 
hath departed from his ordinary way so farre, 
as to appoint 9 of the Councell to treat with 
him; but when they came to any approaches, 
he answered, that he brought onely Com- 
mission to propose certain things, which he 
was ready to doe, but he had no instructions 
to treat, but expected them upon an other 
return from his Master. So that there is no 
treaty for the marriage begun yet : for I know 
you have heard Olivarez his free acknowledge- 
ment, that til the Prince came, there was no 
thoght of it. The King in his gests of this 
progress, hath determined it, not as hereto- 
fore, at Windsor, but at Farnham during 
pleasure: so he is within a journey of South- 
ampton; and even that circumstance adds to 
some other reasons, that he expects the Prince 
this Summer, and that Sir W. Crofts, in his 
last dispatches, enlarged the Prince in his 
liberty, from his Father, to come away, if he 
would. Amongst all the irregularities of this 
age, to me this is as strange as any, That this 

year 



Persons of Honour, 73 

year there is no peace, and yet no sword 
drawn in the world; & it is a lost conjecture to 
think which way any of the Armies will bend. 
Here it is imagined, that Yukendorfe and Gabor 
(for, for any concurrence of love, it is but a 
dream) may so farre distresse Bohemia, as 
that Tilly must be recalled thither; and that 
if he be, Brunswikes way is open into Baviere, 
where he may recompense great losses, whilest 
Mansfield and Gonzales, and his Excellency 
and Spinola, keep the ballance even in their 
parts, by looking upon another. This noble 
friend of yours is in his last minute, in this 
Town; and I am going into the Coach with 
my Lo. to Hanworth. If I might have forborn 
the sealing the rest till my return from thence, 
you might have heard something more from 

Your very true poor friend and humble 
servant in Chr. Jes. J. Donne. 

No straitnesse makes me forget my service to 
your daughters: If my Bell were tolling, I should 
pray for them, and though my Letter he sealing, 
I leave not out my wishes, that their fortunes may 
second their goodnesse. Amen. 



To 



74 Letters to sever all 

[xxx.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

THis Tuesday morning, which hath brought 
me to London, presents me with all your 
Letters. Me thought it was a rent day, I 
mean such as yours, and not as mine; and yet 
such too, when I considered how much I 
ought you for them, how good a mother, how 
fertill and abundant the understanding is, 
if she have a good father; and how well friend- 
ship performs that office. For that which is 
denied in other generations is done in this of 
yours: for here is superfetation, childe upon 
childe, and that which is more strange twins 
at a latter conception. If in my second re- 
ligion, friendship, I had a conscience, either 
errantem to mistake good and bad and indif- 
ferent, or opinantem to be ravished by others 
opinions or examples, or duhiam to adhere to 
neither part, or scrupulosam to incline to one, 
but upon reasons light in themselves, or indis- 
cussed in me, (which are almost all the diseases 
of conscience) I might mistake your often, 
long, and busie Letters, and fear you did but 
intreat me to have mercy upon you and spare 

you 



Persons of Honour, 75 

you; for you know our Court took the resolu- 
tion, that it was the best way to dispatch the 
French Prince back again quickly, to receive 
him solemnly, ceremoniously, and expensively, 
when he hoped a domestique and durable 
entertainment. I never meant to excel! you 
in weight nor price, but in number and bulk I 
thought I might, because he may cast up a 
greater summe who hath but forty small 
monies, then he with twenty Portuguesses. 
The memory of friends, (I mean onely for 
Letters) neither enters ordinarily into busied 
men, because they are never emploied within, 
nor into men of pleasure, because they are 
never at home. For these wishes therefore 
which you won out of your pleasure and 
recreation, you were as excusable to me if you 
writ seldome, as Sir H. Wotton is, under the 
oppression of businesse, or the necessity of 
seeming so; or more then he, because I hope 
you have both pleasure and businesse: onely 
to me, who have neither, this omission were 
sinne; for though writing be not of the pre- 
cepts of friendship, but of the counsels, yet, 
as in some cases to some men counsels become 
precepts, and though not immediately from 
God, yet very roundly and quickly from his 

Church 



76 



Letters to several! 



Church, (as selling and dividing goods in the 
first time, continence in the Romane Church, 
and order and decencie in ours) so to me who 
can do nothing else, it seems to binde my con- 
science to write; and it is sinne to doe against 
the conscience, though that erre. Yet no 
mans Letters might be better wanted then 
mine, since my whole Letter is nothing else 
but a confession that I should and w^ould 
write. I owed you a Letter in verse before 
by mine own promise, and now that you 
think that you have hedged in that debt by a 
greater by your Letter in verse, I think it now 
most seasonable and fashionable for me to 
break. At least, to write presently, were to 
accuse my self of not having read yours so 
often as such a Letter deserves from you to me. 
To make my debt greater (for such is the de- 
sire of all, who cannot or mean not to pay) I 
pray read these two problemes: for such light 
flashes as these have been my hawkings in my 
sorry [Surrey?] journies. I accompany them 
with another ragge of verses, worthy of that 
name for the smalnesse, and age, for it hath 
long lien among my other papers, and laughs 
at them, that have adventured to you: for I 
think till now you saw it not, and neither you, 

nor 



Persons of Honour. 77 

nor it should repent it. Sir, if I were any 
thing, my love to you might multiply it, and 
dignifie it: But infinite nothings are but one 
such; yet since even Chymera's have some 
name and titles, I am also 

Yours. 



[xxxi.j 
To your selfe. 

SIR, 

IF this Letter finde you in a progresse, or 
at Bath, or at any place of equall leasure 
to our Spa, you will perchance descend to 
reade so low meditations as these. Nothing 
in my L. of Salisburies death exercised my 
poor considerations so much, as the multi- 
tude of libells. It was easily discerned, some 
years before his death, that he was at a defen- 
sive war, both for his honour and health, and 
(as we then thought) for his estate: and I 
thought, that had removed much of the envy. 
Besides, I have just reasons to think, that in 
the chiefest businesses between the Nations, 
he was a very good patriot. But I meant to 
speake of nothing but the libells, of which, all 
which are brought into these parts, are so 

tastelesse 



78 



Letters to severall 



tastelesse and flat, that I protest to you, I 
think they were made by his friends. It is 
not the first time that our age hath seen that 
art practised, That when there are witty and 
sharp libels made which not onely for the 
liberty of speaking, but for the elegancie, and 
composition, would take deep root, and make 
durable impressions in the memory, no other 
way hath been thought so fit to suppresse 
them, as to divulge some course [coarse], and 
railing one: for when the noise is risen, that 
libels are abroad, mens curiositie must be 
served with something: and it is better for the 
honour of the person traduced, that some 
blunt downright railings be vented, of which 
everybody is soon weary, then other pieces, 
which entertain us long with a delight, and 
love to the things themselves. I doubt not 
but he smoothered some libels against him in 
his life time. But I would all these (or better) 
had been made then, for they might have testi- 
fied that the Authors had meant to mend him, 
but now they can have no honest pretence. 
I dare say to you, where I am not easily mis- 
interpreted, that there may be cases, where one 
one may do his Countrey good service, by 
libelling against a live man. For, where a 

man 



Persons of Honour, 79 



man is either too great, or his Vices too gen- 
erall, to be brought under a judiciary accusa- 
tion, there is no way, but this extraordinary 
accusing, which we call Libelling. And I 
have heard that nothing hath soupled and 
allayed the D, of Lerma in his violent great- 
nesse, so much as the often libels made upon 
him. But after death, it is, in all cases, un- 
excusable. I know that Lucifer, and one or 
two more of the Fathers who writ libellous 
books against the Emperours of their times, 
are excused by our writers, because they 
writ not in the lives of those Emperours. I 
am glad for them that they writ not in their 
lives, for that must have occasioned tumult, 
and contempt, against so high and Soveraign 
persons. But that doth not enough excuse 
them to me, for writing so after their death; 
for that was ignoble, and uselesse, though 
they did a little escape the nature of libels, 
by being subscribed and avowed: which excuse 
would not have served in the Star-chamber, 
where sealed Letters have been judged Libels; 
but these of which we speake at this present, 
are capable of no excuse, no amolishment, and 
therefore I cry you mercy, and my self too, 
for disliking them, with so much diligence, 

for 



8o Letters to sever all 

for they deserve not that. But Sir, you see 
by this, and by my Letter of last week, from 
hence the peremptory barrennesse of this 
place, from whence we can write nothing into 
England^ but of that which comes from 
thence. Till the Lady Worsier came hither, 
I had never heard any thing to make me 
imagine that Sir Roh. Rich was in England; 
the first hour that I had knowledge of it, I 
kisse his hands by this Letter. I make 
account to be in London, transitorily, about 
the end of August. You shall do me much 
favour, if I may finde a Letter from you (if 
you shall not then be there) at the Lady 
Bartlets: I shall come home in much ignorance, 
nor would I discern home by a better light, 
or any other then you. I can glory of nothing 
in this voyage, but that I have afflicted my 
Lady Bedford with few Letters. I protest 
earnestly to you, it troubles me much more to 
dispatch a pacquet into England, without a 
Letter to her, then it would to put in three. 
But I have been heretofore too immodest to- 
wards her, and I suffer this Purgatory for it. 
We make accounts to leave this place within 
8 or ID days, and hence to make our best haste 
to the Count Maurice, where we think to finde 

again 



Persons of Honour, 8i 

again the young Palatine: all this I tell you 
only because when you know, that we shall 
run too fast to write any more Letters, you 
may easily pardon the importunities and im- 
pertinencles of this, and cast into no lower 
place of your love 

Spa, 26 July here Your very true friend and servant 

1612. J. Donne. 



[xxxii.j 
To my Lord G. H. 

SIR, 

I Am near the execution of that purpose 
for France; though I may have other ends, 
yet if it do but keep me awake, it recom- 
penses me well. I am now in the afternoon 
of my life, and then it is unwholesome to 
sleep. It is ill to look back, or give over in a 
course; but worse never to set out. I speake 
to you at this time of departing, as I should do 
at my last upon my death-bed; and I desire 
to deliver into your hands a heart and affec- 
tions, as innocent towards you, as I shall to 
deliver my soul into Gods hands then. I say 
not this out of diffidence, as though you 
doubted it, or that this should look like such 

an 



82 Letters to sever all 

an excuse, as implyed an accusation; but be- 
cause my fortune hath burdened you so, as I 
could not rectifie it before my going, my con- 
science and interpretation (severer I hope then 
yours towards my self) calls that a kinde of 
demerit, but God who hath not only afforded 
us a way to be delivered from our great many 
debts, contracted by our Executorship to 
Adam^ but also another for our particular 
debts after, hath not left poor men unpro- 
vided, for discharge of morall and civill debts; 
in which, acknowledgement, and thankfulnesse 
is the same, as repentance and contrition is 
in spiritual debts: and though the value and 
dignity of all these be not perchance in the 
things, but in the acceptation, yet I cannot 
doubt of it, either in God, or you. But Sir, 
because there is some degree of thankfulnesse 
in asking more (for that confesses all former 
obligations, and a desire to be still in the same 
dependency) I must intreat you to continue 
that wherein you have most expressed your 
love to me, which is, to maintain me in the 
same room in my Lady Bedfords opinion, in 
the which you placed me. I professe to you 
that I am too much bound to her, for express- 
ing every way her care of my fortune, that I 

am 



Persons of Honour. 83 

am weary before she is ; and out of a loathnesse, 
that so good works should be bestowed upon so 
ill stuffe, or that so much ill fortune should be 
mingled with hers, as that she should misse 
any thing that she desired, though it were but 
for me. I am willing to depart from farther 
exercising her indevours in that kinde. I 
shall be bold to deliver my poor Letters to her 
Ladishlps hands, through yours, whilest I am 
abroad though I shall ever account my self at 
home, whilest I am in your memory. 

Your affectionate servant and lover 
J. Donne. 



[xxxiii.j 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

NAture hath made all bodies alike, by 
mingling and kneading up the same 
elements in every one. And amongst men, 
the other nature, Custome, hath made every 
minde like some other; we are patterns, or 
copies, we informe, or imitate. But as he 
hath not presently attained to write a good 
hand, which hath equalled one excellent 
Master in his A, another in his By much lesse 

he 



84 



Letters to severall 



he which hath sought all the excellent Masters, 
and imployed all his time to exceed on one 
Letter, because not so much an excellency of 
any, nor every one, as an evennesse and pro- 
portion, and respect to one another gives the 
perfection: so is no man vertuous by particular 
example. Not he that doth all actions to the 
pattern of the most valiant, or liberall, which 
Histories afford: nor he which chuses from 
every one their best actions, and thereupon 
doth something like those. Perchance such 
may be in via perficiendorum, which Divines 
allow to Monasticall life, but not perfectorum, 
which by them is only due to Prelacy. For 
vertue is even, and continuall, and the same, 
and can therefore break no where, nor admit 
ends, nor beginnings : it is not only not broken, 
but not tyed together. He is not vertuous, 
out of whose actions you can pick an excellent 
one. Vice and her fruits may be seen, because 
they are thick bodies, but not vertue, which 
is all light, and vices have swellings and fits, 
and noise, because being extreams, they dwell 
far asunder, and they maintain both a forein 
war against vertue, and a civill against one 
another, and affect Soveraignty, as vertue 
doth society. The later Physitians say, that 

when 



Persons of Honour. 85 

when our naturall Inborn preservative is cor- 
rupted or wasted, and must be restored by a 
like extracted from other bodies; the chief care 
is that the Mummy have in it no excelling qual- 
ity, but an equally digested temper: And such 
is true vertue. But men who have preferred 
money before all, think they deal honourably 
with vertue, if they compare her with money: 
And think that as money is not called base, 
till the allay exceed the pure; so they are ver- 
tuous enough, if they have enough to make 
their actions currant, which is, if either they 
get praise, or (in a lower abasing) if they in- 
curre not infamy or penalty. But you know 
who said, Augusta innocentia est ad legem 
bonum esse: which rule being given for positive 
Laws, severe mistakers apply even to Gods 
Law, and (perchance against his Command- 
ment) binde themselves to his Counsails, 
beyond his Laws. But they are worse, that 
thinke that because some men formerly wast- 
full, live better with half their rents then they 
did with all, being now advantaged with dis- 
cretion and experience, therefore our times 
need lesse moral vertue then the first, because 
we have Christianity, which is the use and 
application of all vertue: as though our religion 

were 



86 Letters to sever all 

were but an art of thrift, to make a little ver- 
tue go far. For as plentifull springs are fittest, 
and best become large Aqueducts, so doth 
much vertue such a steward and officer as a 
Christian. But I must not give you a Homily 
for a Letter. I said a great while since, that 
custome made men like; we who have been 
accustomed to one another are like in this, 
that we love not business: this therefore shall 
not be to you nor me a busie Letter. I end 
with a probleme, whose errand is, to aske for 
his fellowes. I pray before you ingulfe your 
self in the progresse, leave them for me, and 
such other of my papers as you will lend me 
till you return. And besides this Allegoricall 
lending, send me truely your counsails, and 
love God and me, whilest I love him and you. 

[xxxiv.] 

To my very true and very good friend 
Sir Henry Goodere. 

SIR, 

AT some later reading, I was more affected 
with that part of your Letter, which is 
of the book, and the namelesse Letters, then 
at first. I am not sorry, for that affection 

were 



Persons of Honour, 87 



were for a jealousie or suspicion of a flexibility 
in you. But I am angry, that any should 
think, you had in your Religion peccant 
humours, defective, or abundant, or that such 
a booke, (if I mistake it not) should be able to 
work upon you; my comfort is, that their 
judgment is too weak to endanger you, since 
by this it confesses, that it mistakes you, in 
thinking you irresolved or various : yet let me 
be bold to fear, that that sound true opinion, 
that in all Christian professions there is way 
to salvation (which I think you think) may 
have been so incommodiously or intempest- 
ively sometimes uttered by you; or else your 
having friends equally near you of all the im- 
pressions of Religion, may have testified such 
an indifferency, as hath occasioned some to 
further such inclinations, as they have mis- 
taken to be in you. This I have feared, be- 
cause hertofore the inobedient Puritans, and 
now the over obedient Papists attempt you. 
It hath hurt very many, not in their con- 
science, nor ends, but in their reputation, and 
ways, that others have thought them fit to be 
wrought upon. As some bodies are as whole- 
somly nourished as ours, with Akornes, and 
endure nakednesse, both which would be 

dangerous 



88 Letters to sever all 

dangerous to us, if we for them should leave 
our former habits, though theirs were the 
Primitive diet and custome: so are many souls 
well fed with such formes, and dressings of 
Religion, as would distemper and misbecome 
us, and make us corrupt towards God, if any 
humane circumstance moved it, and in the 
opinion of men, though none. You shall sel- 
dome see a Coyne, upon which the stamp were 
removed, though to imprint it better, but it 
looks awry and squint. And so, for the most 
part, do mindes which have received divers 
impressions. I will not, nor need to you, com- 
pare the Religious. The channels of Gods 
mercies run through both fields; and they are 
sister teats of his graces, yet both diseased and 
infected, but not both alike. And I think, that 
as Copernicisme in the Mathematiques hath 
carried earth farther up, from the stupid 
Center; and yet not honoured it, nor advan- 
taged it, because for the necessity of appear- 
ances, it hath carried heaven so much higher 
from it: so the Roman profession seems to ex- 
hale, and refine our wills from earthly Drugs, 
and Lees, more then the Reformed, and so 
seems to bring us nearer heaven; but then that 
carries heaven farther from us, by making us 

pass 



Persons of Honour. 89 

pass so many Courts, and Offices of Saints in 
this life, in all our petitions, and lying in a 
painfull prison in the next, during the pleasure, 
not of him to whom we go, and who must be 
our Judge, but of them from whom we come, 
who know not our case. Sir, as I said last 
time, labour to keep your alacrity and dignity 
in an even temper: for in a dark sadnesse, in- 
different things seem abominable, or necessary, 
being neither; as trees, and sheep to melan- 
cholique night-walkers have unproper shapes. 
And when you descend to satlsfie all men In 
your own religion, or to excuse others to al[l], 
you prostitute your self and your understand- 
ing, though not a prey, yet a mark, and a hope, 
and a subject, for every sophister In Religion 
to work on. For the other part of your 
Letter, spent In the praise of the Countesse, I 
am always very apt to beleeve it of her, and 
can never beleeve It so well, and so reasonably, 
as now, when It Is averred by you; but for the 
expressing It to her. In that sort as you seem 
to counsaile, I have these two reasons to de- 
cline it. That that knowledge which she hath 
of me, was In the beginning of a graver course, 
then of a Poet, Into which (that I may also 
keep my dignity) I would not seem to relapse. 

The 



90 Letters to several I 

The Spanish proverb informes me, that he is 
a fool which cannot make one Sonnet, and 
he is mad which makes two. The other 
stronger reason, is my integrity to the other 
Countesse, of whose worthinesse though I 
swallowed your opinion at first upon your 
words, yet I have had since an explicit faith, 
and now a knowledge: and for her delight 
(since she descends to them) I had reserved 
not only all the verses, which I should make, 
but all the thoughts of womens worthinesse. 
But because I hope she will not disdain, that 
I should write well of her Picture, I have 
obeyed you thus far, as to write: but intreat 
you by your freindship, that by this occasion 
of versifying, I be not traduced, nor esteemed 
light in that Tribe, and that house where I 
have lived. If those reasons which moved 
you to bid me write be not constant in you 
still, or if you meant not that I should write 
verses; or if these verses be too bad, or too 
good, over or under her understanding, and 
not fit; I pray receive them, as a companion 
and supplement of this Letter to you: and as 
such a token as I use to send, which use, be- 
cause I wish rather they should serve (except 
you wish otherwise) I send no other; but after 

I 



Persons of Honour, 9 1 

I have told you, that here at a Chrlstning at 

Peckam, you are remembered by divers of ours 

and I commanded to tell you so, I kisse your 

hands, and so seal to you my pure love, which 

I would not refuse to do by any labour or 

danger. 

Your very true friend and servant 
J. Donne. 

[xxxv.j 
To S' G. M. 

IF you were here, you would not think me 
importune, if I bid you good morrow every 
day; and such a patience will excuse my often 
Letters. No other kinde of conveyance is 
better for knowledge, or love: What treasures 
of Morall knowledge are in Senecaes Letters 
to onely one Lucilius? and what of Naturall 
in Plinies? how much of the storie of the time, 
is in Ciceroes Letters? And how all of these 
times, in the Jesuites Eastern and Western 
Epistles .f* where can we finde so perfect a 
Character of Phalaris, as in his own Letters, 
which are almost so many writs of Execution? 
Or of BrutMS, as In his privie seals for monie? , 
The Evangiles and Acts, teach us what to 
beleeve, but the Epistles of the Apostles what 

to 



92 Letters to sever a II 

to do. And those who have endevoured to 
dignifie Seneca above his worth, have no way 
fitter, then to imagine Letters between him 
and S. Paul. As they think also that they 
have expressed an excellent person, in that 
Letter which they obtrude, from our B[lessed] 
Saviour to King Agaharus. The Italians, 
which are most discursive, and think the 
world owes them all wisdome, abound so 
much in this kinde of expressing, that Michel 
Monta{g[n]e sales, he hath seen, (as I remem- 
ber) 400 volumes of Italian Letters. But it is 
the other capacity which must make mine 
acceptable, that they are also the best con- 
veyers of love. But, though all knowledge 
be in those Authors already, yet, as some 
poisons, and some medicines, hurt not, nor 
profit, except the creature in which they reside, 
contribute their lively activltie, and vigor; so 
much of the knowledge buried in Books 
perlsheth, and becomes ineffectuall, if it be 
not applied, and refreshed by a companion, 
or friend. Much of their goodnesse, hath the 
same period, which some Physicians of Italy 
have observed to be in the biting of their 
Tarentola, that it affects no longer, then the 
flie lives. For with how much desire we read 

the 



Persons of Honour. 93 

the papers of any living now, (especially 
friends) which we would scarce allow a boxe 
in our cabinet, or shelf in our Library, if they 
were dead? And we do justly in it, for the 
writings and words of men present, we may 
examine, controU, and expostulate, and receive 
satisfaction from the authors; but the other 
we must beleeve, or discredit; they present 
no mean. Since then at this time, I am upon 
the stage, you may be content to hear me. 
And now that perchance I have brought you 
to it, (as Thorn. Badger did the King) now I 
have nothing to say. And it is well, for the 
Letter is already long enough, else let this 
probleme supply, which was occasioned by 
you, of women wearing stones; which, it seems, 
you were afraid women should read, because 
you avert them at the beginning, with a pro- 
testation of cleanlinesse. Martiall found no 
way fitter to draw the Romane Matrons to 
read one of his Books, which he thinks most 
morall and cleanly, then to counsell them by 
the first Epigram to skip the Book, because 
it was obscene. But either you write not at 
all for women, or for those of sincerer palates. 
Though their unworthinesse, and your own 
ease be advocates for me with you, yet I must 

adde 



94 Letters to several/ 

adde my entreaty, that you let goe no copy 

of my Problems, till I review them. If it be 

too late, at least be able to tell me who hath 

them. 

Yours 

J. Donne. 



[xxxvi.J 
To S' H. G. 

I Send not my Letters as tribute, nor in- 
terest, not recompense, nor for commerce, 
nor as testimonials of my love, nor provokers 
of yours, nor to justifie my custome of writing, 
nor for a vent and utterance of my medita- 
tions; for my Letters are either above or under 
all such offices; yet I write very affectionately, 
and I chide and accuse my self of diminishing 
that affection which sends them, when I ask 
my self why: onely I am sure that I desire that 
you might have in your hands Letters of mine 
of all kindes, as conveyances and deliverers 
of me to you, whether you accept me as a 
friend, or as a patient, or as a penitent, or as a 
beadsman, for I decline no jurisdiction, or 
refuse any tenure. I would not open any 
doore upon you, but look in when you open it. 
Angels have not, nor affect not other knowl- 
edge 



Persons of Honour. 95 

edge of one another, then they list to reveal 
to one another. It is then in this onely, that 
friends are Angels, that they are capable and 
fit for such revelations when they are offered. 
If at any time I seem to studie you more in- 
quisitively, it is for no other end but to know 
how to present you to God in my prayers, and 
what to ask of him for you ; for even that holy 
exercise may not be done inopportunely, no 
nor importunely. I finde little errour in that 
Grecians counsell, who sales, If thou ask any 
thing of God, offer no sacrifice, nor ask ele- 
gantly, nor vehemently, but remember that 
thou wouldest not give to such an asker: Nor 
in his other Countriman, who affirms sacrifice 
of blood to be so unproportionable to God, 
that perfumes, though much more spirituall, 
are too grosse. Yea words which are our 
subtillest and delicatest outward creatures, 
being composed of thoughts and breath, are 
so muddie, so thick, that our thoughts them- 
selves are so, because (except at the first rising) 
they are ever leavened with passions and 
affections: And that advantage of nearer 
familiarity with God, which the act of incar- 
nation gave us, is grounded upon Gods 
assuming us, not our going to him. And, our 

accesses 



96 



Letters to several! 



accesses to his presence are but his descents 
into us; and when we get any thing by prayer, 
he gave us before hand the thing and the 
petition. For, I scarce think any ineffectual! 
prayer free from both sin, and the punishment 
of sin: yet as God seposed a seventh of our 
time for his exterior worship, and as his 
Christian Church early presented him a type 
of the whole year in a Lent, and after imposed 
the obligation of canonique hours, constitut- 
ing thereby morall Sabbaths every day; I am 
farre from dehorting those fixed devotions: 
But I had rather it were bestowed upon 
thanksgiving then petition, upon praise then 
prayer; not that God is indeared by that, or 
wearied by this; all is one in the receiver, 
but not in the sender: and thanks doth both 
offices; for, nothing doth so innocently pro- 
voke new graces, as gratitude. I would also 
rather make short prayers then extend them, 
though God can neither be surprised, nor be- 
sieged: for, long prayers have more of the man, 
as ambition of eloquence, and a complacencle 
in the work, and more of the Devil by often 
distractions: for, after in the beginning we 
have well intreated God to hearken, we speak 
no more to him. Even this Letter is some 

example 



Persons of Honour. 97 

example of such infirmltie, which being in- 
tended for a Letter, is extended and strayed 
into a Homilie. And whatsoever is not what it 
was purposed, is worse; therefore it shall at last 
end like a Letter by assuring you I am 



[xxxvii.] 
To your selfe. 

SIR, 

Sir Germander Pool, your noble friend and 
fellow in Armes, hath been at this house. 
I finde by their diligent inquiring from me, 
that he hath assured them that he hath much 
advanced your proceeding, by his resignation; 
but cooled them again with this, that the L. 
Spencer pretends in his room. I never feared 
his, nor any mans diligence in that; I feared 
onely your remisnesse, because you have a for- 
tune that can endure, and a nature that can 
almost be content to misse. But I had rather 
you exercised your Philosophy and evennesse 
in some things else. He doth not nothing 
which falls cleanly and harmelesly; but he 
wrastles better which stands. I know you 
can easily forgive your self any negligences 
and slacknesses, but I am glad that 3^ou are 

ingaged 



98 



Letters to severall 



ingaged to so many friends, who either by 
your self, or fame have knowledge of it. In 
all the rest of them there is a worthinesse, and 
in me a love which deserves to be satisfied. 
In this therefore, as you are forward in all 
things else, be content to do more for your 
friends then you would for your self; endevour 
it, that is effect it. 

Tuesday. Your very true friend and love 

J. Donne. 

[xxxviii.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

IN the History or style of friendship, which 
is best written both in deeds and words, 
a Letter, which is of a mixed nature, and hath 
something of both, is a mixed Parenthesis: 
It may be left out, yet it contributes, though 
not to the being, yet to the verdure, and fresh- 
nesse thereof. Letters have truly the same 
office, as oaths. As these amongst light and 
empty men, are but fillings, and pauses, and 
interjections; but with weightier, they are sad 
attestations: So are Letters to some comple- 
ment, and obligation to others. For mine, as 

I 



Persons of Honour. 99 

I never authorized my servant to lie in my be- 
halfe, (for if it were officious in him, it might 
be worse in me) so I allow my Letters much 
lesse that civill dishonest, both because they 
go from me more considerately, and because 
they are permanent; for in them I may speak 
to you in your chamber a year hence before 
I know not whom, and not hear my self. 
They shall therefore ever keep the sincerity 
and intemeratenesse of the fountain, whence 
they are derived. And as wheresoever these 
leaves fall, the root is in my heart, so shall 
they, as that sucks good affections towards 
you there, have ever true impressions thereof. 
This much information is in very leaves, that 
they can tell what the tree is, and these can 
tell you I am a friend, and an honest man. Of 
what generall use, the fruit should speake, and 
I have none: and of what particular profit to 
you, your application and experimenting 
should tell you, and you can make none of 
such a nothing; yet even of barren Sycamores, 
such as I, there were use, if either any light 
flashings, or scorching vehemencies, or sudden 
showres made you need so shadowy an ex- 
ample or remembrancer. But (Sir) your for- 
tune and minde do you this happy injury, that 

they 



loo Letters to several! 

they make all kinde of fruits uselesse unto you; 
Therefore I have placed my love wisely where 
I need communicate nothing. All this, though 
perchance you read it not till Michaelmas, 
was told you at Micham, 15. August. 1607. 

[xxxix.] 
To my most worthy friend Sir Henry Goodere. 

SIR, 

BEcause evennesse conduces as much to 
strength and firmnesse as greatnesse 
doth, I would not discontinue my course of 
writing. It Is a sacrifice, which though 
friends need not, friendship doth; which hath 
in It so much divinity, that as we must be ever 
equally disposed inwardly so to doe or suffer 
for it, so we must sepose some certain times 
for the outward service thereof, though it be 
but formall and testimonlall: that time to me 
towards you Is Tuesday, and my Temple, 
the Rose in Smith-field. If I were by your 
appointment your Referendarle for news, I 
should write but short Letters, because the 
times are barren. The low Countries, which 
used to be the Mart of news for this season, 
suffering also, or rather enjoying a vacation. 

Since 



Persons of Honour. loi 

Since therefore I am but mine own Secretary 
(and what's that?) I were excusable if I writ 
nothing, since I am so: Besides that, your 
much knowledge brings you this disadvan- 
tage, that as stomachs accustomed to deli- 
cacies, finde nothing new or pleasing to them 
when they are sick; so you can hear nothing 
from me (though the Countrey perchance 
make you hungry) which you know not. 
Therefore in stead of a Letter to you, I send 
you one to another, to the best Lady, who did 
me the honour to acknowledge the receit of 
one of mine, by one of hers; and who only hath 
power to cast the fetters of verse upon my free 
meditations: It should give you some delight, 
and some comfort, because you are the first 
which see it, and it is the last which you shall 
see of this kinde from me. 

Micham the Your very affectionate lover and servant 

14 August. J. Donne. 



To 



I02 Letters to sever all 

[xL] 
To Sir I. H. 

S I R, 

I Would not omit this, not Commodity, 
but Advantage of writing to you. This 
emptinesse in London, dignifies any Letter 
from hence, as in the seasons, earHnesse and 
latenesse, makes the sowrenesse, and after 
the sweetnesse of fruits acceptable and gra- 
cious. We often excuse and advance mean 
Authors, by the age in which they lived, so 
will your love do this Letter; and you will 
tell your self, that if he which writ it knew 
wherein he might expresse his affection, or 
any thing which might have made his Letter 
welcommer, he would have done it. As it is, 
you may accept it so, as we do many China 
manufactures, of which when we know no 
use, yet we satisfie our curiosity in consider- 
ing them, because we knew not how, nor of 
what matter they were made. Near great 
woods and quarries it is no wonder to see faire 
houses, but in Holland which wants both, it is. 
So were it for me who am as farre removed 
from Court, and knowledge of forein pas- 
sages, as this City is now from the face and 

furniture 



Persons of Honour. 103 

furniture of a City, to build up a long Letter, 
and to write of my self were but to inclose a 
poor handfuU of straw for a token in a Letter: 
yet I will tell you, that I am at London onely 
to provide for Monday, when I shall use that 
favour which my Lady Bedford hath afforded 
me, of giving her name to my daughter; which 
I mention to you, as well to shew that I covet 
any occasion of a gratefull speaking of her 
favours, as that, because I have thought the 
day is likely to bring you to London, I might 
tell you, that my poor house is in your way 
and you shall there linde such company, as 
(I think) you will not be loth to accompany 
to London. 

6 Aug. 1608. Your very true friend 

J. Donne. 

[xli.l 
To Sir H. Wootton. 

SIR, 

THat which is at first but a visitation, and 
a civill office, comes quickly to be a 
haunting, and an uncivill importunity: my 
often writing might be subject to such a mis- 
interpretation, if it were not to you, who as 

you 



I04 Letters to several/ 

you know that the affection which suggests 
and dictates them, is ever one, and continuall, 
and uninterrupted, may be pleased to think 
my Letters so too, and that all the pieces make 
but one long Letter, and so I know you would 
not grudge to read any intire book of mine, 
at that pace, as you do my Letters, which is a 
leafe a week: especially such Letters as mine, 
which (perchance out of the dulnesse of the 
place) are so empty of any relations, as that 
they oppresse not your meditations, nor dis- 
course, nor memory. You know that for aire 
we are sure we apprehend and enjoy it, but 
when this aire is rarified into fire, we begin to 
dispute whether it be an element, or no: so 
when Letters have a convenient handsome 
body of news, they are Letters ; but when they 
are spun out of nothing, they are nothing, or 
but apparitions, and ghosts, with such hollow 
sounds, as he that hears them, knows not 
what they said. You (I think) and I am much 
of one sect in the Philosophy of love; which 
though it be directed upon the minde, doth 
inhere in the body, and find piety entertain- 
ment there: so have Letters for their prin- 
cipall office, to be seals and testimonies of 
mutuall affection, but the materialls and fuell 

of 



Persons of Honour. 105 

of them should be a confident and mutuall 
communicating of those things which we 
know. How shall I then who know nothing 
write Letters ? Sir, I learn knowledge enough 
out of yours to me. I learn that there is truth 
and firmnesse and an earnestness of doing 
good alive in the world; and therefore, since 
there is so good company in it, I have not so 
much desire to go out of it, as I had, if my 
fortune would afford me any room in it. You 
know I have been no coward, nor unindus- 
trious in attempting that; nor will I give it 
over yet. If at last, I must confesse, that I 
dyed ten years ago, yet as the Primitive 
Church admitted some of the Jews Ceremonies 
not for perpteuall use, but because they would 
bury the Synagogue honourably, though I 
dyed at a blow then when my courses were 
diverted, yet it wil please me a little to have 
had a long funerall, and to have kept my self 
so long above ground without putrefaction. 
But this is melancholique discourse; To change 
therefore from this Metaphoricall death to the 
true, and that with a little more relish of 
mirth, let me tell you the good nature of the 
executioner of Paris: who when Vatan was 
beheaded, (who dying in the profession of the 

Religion 



io6 Letters to sever all 

Religion, had made his peace with God in the 
prison, and so laid nothing at the place of exe- 
cution) swore he had rather execute forty 
Huguenots, then one Catholique, because the 
Huguenot used so few words, and troubled 
him so little, in respect of the dilatory cere- 
monies of the others, in dying. Cotton the 
great Court Jesuit hath so importuned the 
Q[ueen] to give some modifications to the late 
interlocutory arrest against the Jesuits, that 
in his presence, the C[ount] Soisons, who had 
been present in the Court at the time of the 
arrest, and Servin the Kings Advocate, who 
urged it, and the Premier president, were 
sent for: They came so well provided with 
their books, out of which they assigned to the 
Q. so many, so evident places of seditious doc- 
trine, that the Q. was well satsified, that it was 
fit by all means to provide against the teaching 
of the like doctrine in France. The D[uke] of 
Espernon is come to Paris, with (they say) 
600 horse in his train; all which company, 
came with him into the Court: which is an 
insolency remarkable here. They say that 
scarce any of the Princes appear in the streets, 
but with very great trains. No one enemy 
could wast the treasures of France so much, 

as 



Persons of Honour. 107 

as so many friends do: for the Q. dares scarce 
deny any, that so she may have the better 
leave to make haste to advance her Marquis 
of Ancre, of whose greatnesse, for matter of 
command, or danger, they have no great fear, 
he being no very capable nor stirring man: 
and then for his drawing of great benefits from 
the Q. they make that use of it, that their 
suits passe with lesse opposition. I beleeve 
the treasure is scattered, because I see the 
future receipt charged with so very many and 
great pensions. The Q. hath adventured a 
little to stop this rage of the Princes impor- 
tunity, by denying a late suit of Soissons: 
which though the other Princes grudge not 
that Soisson should faile, for he hath drawn 
infinite sums already, yet they resent it some- 
w^hat tenderly, that any of them should be 
denyed, when the Marquis obtains. That 
which was much observed in the Kings more 
childish age, when I was last here, by those 
whom his father appointed to judge, by an 
assiduous observation, his naturall inclination, 
is more and more confirmed, that his inclina- 
tions are cruell, and tyrannous; and when he 
is any way aflfected, his stammering is so ex- 
treme, as he can utter nothing. They cannot 

draw 



io8 Letters to sever all 

draw him to look upon a son of the Marquis, 
whom they have put into his service. And 
he was so extremely affectionate towards the 
younger son of Beaufort, that they have re- 
moved him to a charge which he hath, as he 
is made Prieur of Malta; but yet there passe 
such Letters between them, by stealth and 
practise, as (though it be between children) 
it is become a matter of State, and much dili- 
gence used to prevent the Letters. For the 
young Marquis of Vervueil, the K[ing] speaks 
often of transplanting him into the Church, 
and once this Christmas delighted himself to 
see his young brother in a Cardinalls habit. 
Sir, it is time to take up, for I know, that any 
thing, from this place, as soon as it is certain, 
is stale. I have been a great while more man- 
nerly towards my Lady Bedford, then to 
trouble her with any of mine own verses, but 
having found these French verses accom- 
panied with a great deal of reputation here, 
I could not forbear to aske her leave to send 
them. I writ to you by M*" Pory the 17 of 
Jan. here, and he carried that Letter to Paris, 
to gather news, like a snowball. He told me 
that Pindar is gone to Constantinople with 
Com.mission to remove and succeed Glover: 

I 



Persons of Honour, 109 

I am afraid you have neglected that businesse. 
Continue me in M[r.] Martins good opinion. 
I know I shall never fall from it, by any de- 
merit of mine, and I know I need not fear it, 
out of any slacknesse or slipperinesse in him, 
but much businesse may strangle me in him. 
When it shall not trouble you to write to me, 
I pray do me the favour to tell me, how many 
you have received from me, for I have now 
much just reason to imagine, that some of my 
Pacquets have had more honour then I wished 
them: which is to be delivered into the hands 
of greater personages, then I addressed them 
unto. Hold me still in your own love, and 
proceed in that noble testimony of it, of which 
your Letter by M. Pory spoke, (which is the 
only Letter that I have received, since I came 
away) and beleeve me that I shall ever with 
much affection, and much devotion joine both 
your fortune and your last best happinesse, 
with the desire of mine own in all my civill 
and divine wishes as the only retribution in 
the power of 

I Your affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 



To 



no Letters to several/ 

[xlii.] 
To the Honorable Knight Sir H. Goodere. 
SIR, 

IF I would go out of my way for excuses, 
or if I did not go out of my way from 
them; I might avoid writing now because I 
cannot chuse but know, that you have in this 
town abler servants, and better understand- 
ing the persons and passages of this Court. 
But my hope is not in the application of 
other mens merits, to me however abundant. 
Besides, this town hath since our comming 
hither, afforded enough for all to say. That 
which was done here the 25 of March, and 
which was so long called a publication of the 
marriages, was no otherwise publique then 
that the Spa[nish] Ambassador, having that 
day an audience, delivered to the Queen that 
his Master was well pleased with all those 
particulars which had been formerly treated. 
And the French Ambassador in Spain is said 
to have had instruction, to do the same office 
in that Court, the same day. Since that, that 
is to say, these 4 last days, it hath been solem- 
nized with more outward bravery then this 
Court is remembered to have appeared in. 

The 



Persons of Honour, 1 1 1 

The main bravery was the number of horses 
which were above 800 Caparazond. Before 
the daies, the town was full of the 5 Chal- 
lengers cartells, full of Rodomontades: but 
in the execution, there were noe personall re- 
encounters, nor other triall of any ability, 
then running at the Quintain, and the Ring. 
Other particulars of this, you cannot chuse 
but hear too much, since at this time there 
come to you so many French men. But lest 
you should beleeve too much, I present you 
these 2 precautions, that for their Gendarm- 
ery, there was no other trial then I told you; 
& for their bravery, no true stuffe. You must 
of necessity have heard often of a Book writ- 
ten against the Popes jurisdiction, about three 
moneths since, by one Richer, a D"" and Syn- 
dique of the Sorbonists, which Book hath now 
been censured by an assembly of the Clergie 
of this Archbishoprick, promoved with so 
much diligence by the Cardinall Peroun [du 
Perron], that for this businesse he hath inter- 
mitted his replie to the Kings answer, which 
now he retires to intend seriously: I have not 
yet had the honour to kisse his Graces hand, 
though I h^ve received some half-invitations 
to do it. Richer was first accused to the Par- 
liament 



I 12 



Letters to several! 



liament, but when It was there required of 
his delators to insist upon some propositions 
in his Book, which were either against Scrip- 
ture, or the GalHcan Church, they desisted in 
that pursuit. But in the censure which the 
Clergie hath made, though it be full of modifi- 
cations and reservations of the rights of the 
King, and the Galilean Churches, there is 
this iniquitie, that being to be published by 
commandment of the Assembly, in all the 
Churches of Paris, which is within that Dio- 
cese, and almost all the Curates of the Parishes 
of Paris being Sorbonists, there is by this 
means a strong party of the Sorbonists them- 
selves raised against Richer; yet against this 
censure, and against three or four which have 
opposed Richer in print, he meditates an 
answer. Before it should come forth I desired 
to speak with him, for I had said to some of 
the Sorbonist of his party, that there was no 
proposition in his Book, which I could not 
shew in Catholique authors of 300 years: I 
had from him an assignation to meet, and at 
the hour he sent me his excuse, which was, 
that he had been traduced to have had con- 
ference with the Ambassadors of England, 
and the States, and with the D[uke] of Bovil- 

lon 



Persons of Honour. 113 

Ion, and that he had accepted a pension of the 
King of England; and withall, that it had been 
very well testified to him that day, that the 
Jesuits had offered to corrupt men with re- 
wards to kill him. Which I doubt not but 
he apprehended for true, because a messenger 
whom I sent to fixe another time of meeting 
with him, found him in an extreme trembling, 
and irresolutions: so that I had no more, but 
an intreaty to forbear comming to his house, 
or drawing him out of It, till it might be with- 
out danger or observation. They of the Re- 
ligion held a Synod at this time in this Town, 
in which the principall businesse is to rectifie, 
or at least to mature, against their Provinciall 
Synod, which shall be held in May, certain 
opinions of Tilenus a Divine of Sedan, with 
which the Churches of Fra^ice are scandalized. 
The chief point is, Whether our salvation be 
to be attributed to the passive merit of Christ, 
which is his death, or to his active also, which 
is his fulfilling of the Law. But I doubt not 
but that will be well composed, if Tilenus who 
is here in person with two other assistants, 
bring any disposition to submit himself to the 
Synod, and not onely to dispute. I doe (I 
thank God) naturally and heartily abhorre all 

schism 



114 Letters to sever all 

schism in Religion so much, as, I protest, I am 
sorry to finde this appearance of schism 
amongst our adversaries the Sorbonists; for 
I had rather they had held together, to have 
made a head against the usurpations of the 
Ro[man] Church, then that their disuniting 
should so enfeeble them, as that the Parlia- 
ment should be left alone to stand against 
those tyrannies. Sir, you will pardon my 
extravagancies in these relations. I look upon 
nothing so intentively as these things, nor fals 
there any thing within my knowledge, which 
I would conceal from you. Though it con- 
cern not you to know it, yet me thinks it con- 
cerns me to tell it. That Cook of which you 
writ to me, is come hither, and hath brought 
me other Letters, but not those of which you 
writ to me, which pacquet, he sales, you re- 
ceived again of him; whether by his falshood, 
or by your diligence in seeking a worthier 
messenger, I know not; but I am sure I never 
lost any thing with more sorrow, because I 
am thereby left still in uncertainties, and 
irresolutions, of that which I desire much to 
know in womens businesses. If you write 
this way any more, chuse no other means, then 
by M'' Bruer at the Queens Arms, a Mercer in 

Cheapside 



Persons of Honour, 1 1 ^ 

Cheapside: he shall alwales know where we are, 
and we are yet in a purpose to go from hence 
within a fortnight, and dispose our selves to be 
at Frankford the 25 of May, when the election 
of the Emperor shall be there. Though I be 
meerly passive in all this pilgrimage, yet I 
shall be willing to advance that design; be- 
cause upon my promise that I would doe so. 
Sir Roh. Rich gave me his, that he would 
divert from his way to Italy so much, as to 
be there then. When I came to this Town I 
found M'" Matthew, diligent to finde a means 
to write to you ; so that at this time, when there 
go so many, I cannot doubt but he pro- 
vides himself, therefore I did not ask his com- 
mandement, nor offer him the service of this 
Pacquet. Sir, you are not evener to your self, 
in your most generall wishes of your own 
good, then I am in my particular, of which 
none rises in me, that is not bent upon your 
enjoying of peace and reposednesse in your 
fortunes, in your affections, and in your con- 
science; m.ore then which I know not how to 
wish to 

Paris the 9 Apr. Your very affectionate servant and 

161 2. here. lover J. Donne. 

To 



1 1 6 Letters to sever all 

[xliii.] 
To Sir H. Wotton. 

Octob. the 4th 1622. almost ad midnight. 

SIR, 

ALL our moralities are but our out-works, 
our Christianity is our Citadel; a man 
who considers duty but the dignity of his being 
a man, is not easily beat from his outworks, 
but from his Christianity never; and therefore 
I dare trust you, who contemplates them both. 
Every distemper of the body now, is com- 
plicated with the spleen, and when we were 
young men we scarce ever heard of the spleen. 
In our declinations now, every accident is 
accompanied with heavy clouds of melan- 
choly; and in our youth we never admitted 
any. It is the spleen of the minde, and we are 
affected with vapors from thence; yet truly, 
even this sadnesse that overtakes us, and this 
yeelding to the sadnesse, is not so vehement 
a poison (though it be no Physick neither) as 
those false waies, in which we sought our 
comforts in our looser dales. You are able 
to make rules to your self, and our B[lessed] 
Saviour continue to you an ability to keep 
within those rules. And this particular occa- 
sion 



Persons of Honour, 117 

sion of your present sadnesse must be helped 
by the rule, for, for examples you will scarce 
finde any, scarce any that is not encombred 
and distressed in his fortunes. I had locked 
my self, sealed and secured my self against all 
possibilities of falling into new debts, and in 
good faith, this year hath thrown me 400 ' 
lower then when I entred this house. I am a 
Father as well as you, and of children (I 
humbly thank God) of as good dispositions; 
and in saying so, I make account that I have 
taken my comparison as high as I could goe; 
for in good faith, I beleeve yours to be so: but 
as those my daughters (who are capable of 
such considerations) cannot but see my desire 
to accommodate them in this world, so I think 
they will not murmure if heaven must be their 
Nunnery, and they associated to the B. vir- 
gins there: I know they would be content to 
passe their lives in a Prison, rather then I 
should macerate my self for them, much more 
to suffer the mediocrity of my house, and my 
means, though that cannot preferre them: 
yours are such too, and it need not that 
patience, for your fortune doth not so farre 
exercise their patience. But to leave all In 
Gods hands, from whose hands nothing can 

be 



1 1 8 Letters to sever all 

be wrung by whining but by praying, nor by 
praying without the Fiat voluntas tua. Sir, 
you are used to my hand, and, I think have 
leisure to spend some time in picking out 
sense, in ragges; else I had written lesse, and 
in longer time. Here is room for an Amen; 

the prayer so I am going to my bedside 

to make for all you and all yours, with 

Your true friend and servant in Chr. Jesus 
J. Donne. 

[xllv.] 
A. V. Merced. 

SIR, 

I Write not to you out of my poor Library, 
where to cast mine eye upon good Authors 
kindles or refreshes sometimes meditations 
not unfit to communicate to near friends; nor 
from the high way, where I am contracted, 
and inverted into my self; which are my two 
ordinary forges of Letters to you. But I write 
from the fire side in my Parler, and in the 
noise of three gamesome children; and by the 
side of her, whom because I have transplanted 
into a wretched fortune, I must labour to dis- 
guise that from her by all such honest devices, 

as 



Persons of Honour. 119 

as giving her my company, and discourse, 
therefore I steal from her, all the time which 
I give this Letter, and it is therefore that I 
take so short a list, and gallop so fast over it. 
I have not been out of my house since I 
received your pacquet. As I have much 
quenched my senses, and disused my body 
from pleasure, and so tried how I can indure 
to be mine own grave, so I try now how I can 
suffer a prison. And since it is but to build 
one wall more about our soul, she is still in her 
own Center, how many circumferences soever 
fortune or our own perversnesse cast about 
her. I would I could as well intreat her to go 
out, as she knows whither to go. But if I melt 
into a melancholy whilest I write, I shall be 
taken in this manner: and I sit by one too 
tender towards these impressions, and it is so 
much our duty, to avoid all occasions of giving 
them sad apprehensions, as S. Hierome accuses 
Adam of no other fault in eating the Apple, 
but that he did it Ne contristaretur delicias 
suas. I am not carefull what I write, because 
the inclosed Letters may dignifie this ill 
favoured bark, and they need not grudge so 
course a countenance, because they are now 
to accompany themselves, my man fetched 

them 



I20 Letters to sever all 

them, and therefore I can say no more of them 
then themselves say. M"^ Meanly intreated 
me by her Letter to hasten hers, as I think, 
for by my troth I cannot read it. My Lady 
was dispatching in so much haste for Twick- 
nam, as she gave no word to a Letter which 
I sent with yours; of Sir Tho. Bartlet, I can say 
nothing, nor of the plague, though your Letter 
bid me: but that he diminishes, the other in- 
creases, but in what proportion I am not clear. 
To them at Hammersmith, and M"^ Herbert I 
will do your command. If I have been good 
In hope, or can promise any little offices in the 
future probably, it is comfortable, for I am 
the worst present man in the world; yet the 
instant, though it be nothing, joynes times 
together, and therefore this unprofitableness, 
since I have been, and will still indevour to 
be so, shall not interrupt me now from being 

Your servant and lover J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 121 

[xlv.] 
To the best Knight Sir H. Wootton. 

SIR, 

WHen I saw your good Countesse last, 
she let me think that her message by 
her foot-man would hasten you up. And 
it furthered that opinion in me, when I knew 
how near M. Mathews day of departing this 
kingdome was. To counterpoyse both these, 
I have a little Letter from you brought to me 
to Micham yesterday, but left at my lodging 
two days sooner: and because that speaks 
nothing of your return, I am content to be 
perplexed in it: and as in all other, so in this 
perplexity to do that which is safest. To me 
it is safest to write, because it performes a 
duty, and leaves my conscience well: and 
though it seem not safest for the Letter, 
which may perish, yet I remember that in the 
Crociate [Crusade] for the warres in the Holy 
Land, and so in all Pilgrimages enterprised in 
devotion, he which dies in the way, enjoys all 
the benefit and indulgences which the end 
did afford. Howsoever, all that can encrease 
my merit; for, as where they immolate men, 
it is a scanter devotion, to sacrifice one of 

many 



122 Letters to sever all 

many slaves or of many children, or an onely 
child, then to beget and bring up one pur- 
posely to sacrifice it, so if I ordain this Letter 
purposely for destruction, it is the largest ex- 
pressing of that kinde of piety, and I am easie 
to beleeve (because I wish it) your hast hither: 
Not that I can fear any slacknesse in that 
business which drew you down, because your 
fortune and honour are a paire of good spurs 
to it; but here also you have both true busi- 
nesse and many Quasi negotia, which go two 
and two to a businesse; which are visitations, 
and such, as though they be not full businesses, 
yet are so near them that they serve as for 
excuses, in omissions of the other. As when 
abjuration was in use in this land, the State 
and law was satisfied if the abjuror came to the 
sea side, and waded into the sea, when windes 
and tydes resisted, so we think our selves justly 
excusable to our friends and our selves, if when 
we should do businesse, we come to the place 
of businesse, as Courts and the houses of 
great Princes and officers. I do not so much 
intimate your infirmity in this, as frankly 
confesse mine own. The master of Latine lan- 
guage says, Oculi & aures aliorum te speculan- 
tur & custodiunt. So those two words are 

synonimous 



Persons of Honour, 123 

synonimous, & only the observation of others 
upon me, is my preservation from extream 
idlenesse, else I professe, that I hate businesse 
so much, as I am sometimes glad to remember 
that the Roman Church reads that verse A ne- 
gotio perambulante in tenebris, which we reade 
from the pestilence walking by night, so equall 
to me do the plague and businesse deserve 
avoiding, but you will neither beleeve that I 
abhor businesse, if I enlarge this Letter, nor 
that I would afford you that ease which I 
affect. Therefore returne to your pleasures. 

Your unprofitablest friend 
March 14. i6o7[8]. J. Donne. 

It is my third Letter: which I tell you, 
because I found not Af Rogers, but left 
the Letter which I sent last, with a stran- 
ger at Cliffords Inne. 

[xlvi.] 
To Sir H. G. 

Sir, 

THis 14 of November last I received yours 
of the 9, as I was in the street going to 
sup with my Lady Bedford; I found all that 
company forepossessed with a wonder why 

you 



124 Letters to several! 

you came not last Saturday. I perceive, that 
as your intermitting your Letters to me, gave 
me reason to hope for you, so some more direct 
addresse or conscience of your businesse here, 
had imprinted in them an assurance of your 
comming. This Letter shall but talke, not 
discourse; it shall but gossip, not consider, nor 
consult, so it is made halfe with a prejudice of 
being lost by the way. The King is gone this 
day for Royston: and hath left with the Queen 
a commandment to meditate upon a Masque 
for Christmas, so that they grow serious about 
that already; that will hasten my Lady Bed- 
fords journey, who goes within ten days from 
hence to her Lord, but by reason of this, can 
make no long stay there. Justinian the Vene- 
tian [ambassador] is gone hence, and one Car- 
raw [Carozv] come in his place : that State hath 
taken a fresh offence at a Friar, who refused 
to absolve a Gentleman, because he would 
not expresse in confession what books of 
Father Paul, and such, he knew to be in the 
hands of any others; the State commanded 
him out of that territory in three hours warn- 
ing, and he hath now submitted himself, and is 
returned as prisoner for Mantua, and so re- 
mains as yet. Sir H. Wootton who writ hither, 

addes 



Persons of Honour. 125 

addes also that upon his knowledge there are 
14000 as good Protestants as he in that State. 
The Duke Joyeuse is dead, in Primont [Peid- 
mont], returning from Rome, where M. Mole 
[Mole] who went with the L[ord] Rosse, is 
taken into the Inquisition, and I see small 
hope of his recovery, for he had in some trans- 
lations of Plessis books talked of Babylon and 
Antichrist. Except it fall out that one Strange 
a Jesuit in the Tower, may be accepted for 
him. To come a little nearer my self. Sir 
Geffery Fenton one of his Majesties Secretaries 
in Ireland is dead; and I have made some offer 
for the place, in preservation whereof, as I 
have had occasion to imploy all my friends, so 
I have not found in them all (except Bedford) 
more hast and words (for when those two are 
together, there is much comfort even in the 
least) then in the L. Hay. In good faith he 
promised so roundly, so abundantly, so pro- 
fusely, as I suspected him, but performed 
what ever he undertook, (and my requests 
were the measures of his undertakings) so 
readily and truly, that his complements be- 
came obligations, and having spoke like a 
Courtier, did like a friend. This I tell you, 
because being farre under any ability of ex- 
pressing 



126 Letters to sever all 

pressing my thankfulnesse to him by any 
proportionall service, I do, as much as I can, 
thank him by thanking of you, who begot, or 
nursed these good impressions of me in him. 
Sir, as my discretion would do, my fortune 
doth bring all my debts into one hand, for I 
owe you what ever Court friends do for me, 
yea, whatsoever I do for myself, because you 
almost importune me, to awake and stare the 
Court in the face. I know not yet what 
conjecture to make of the event. But I am 
content to go forward a little more in the 
madnesse of missing rather then not pretend; 
and rather wear out, then rust. It is extreme 
late; and as this Letter is nothing, so if ever it 
come to you, you will know it without a name, 
and therefore I may end it here. 

[xlvii.j 
To the Honourable Knight Sir H. Goodere. 

SIR, 

T Hough you escape my lifting up of your 
latch by removing, you cannot my Let- 
ters; yet of this Letter I do not much accuse 
my self, for I serve your Commandment in it, 
for it is only to convey to you this paper 

opposed 



Persons of Honour, 127 

opposed to those, with which you trusted me. 
It is (I cannot say the waightyest, but truly) 
the saddest lucubration and nights passage 
that ever I had. For it exercised those hours, 
which, with extreme danger to her, whom I 
should hardly have abstained from recom- 
pensing for her company in this world, with 
accompanying her out of it, encreased my poor 
family with a son. Though her anguish, and 
my fears, and hopes, seem divers and wild 
distractions from this small businesse of your 
papers, yet because they all narrowed them- 
selves, and met in Via regia, which is the con- 
sideration of our selves, and God, I thought it 
time not unfit for this despatch. Thus much 
more then needed I have told you, whilest my 
fire was lighting at Tricombs [at] lo a clock. 

Yours ever intirely 
J. Donne. 

[xlviii.] 
To the Honourable Knight H. G. 

SIR, 

YOur Son left here a Letter for me, from 
you. But I neither discern by it that 
you have received any of mine lately; which 

have 



128 Letters to sever all 

have been many, and large, and too confident 
to be lost, especially since, (as I remember) 
they always conveyed others to that good 
Lady; neither do I know where to finde, by any 
diligence, your sons lodging. But I hope he 
will apprehend that impossibility in me, and 
finde me here, where he shall also finde as 
much readinesse to serve him, as at Polesworth. 
This Letter of yours makes me perceive, that 
that Lady hath expressed her purpose to you 
in particular, for the next term. Accordingly, 
I make my promises: for since one that meant 
but to flatter, told an Emperour, that his bene- 
fits were to be reckoned from the day of the 
promise, because he never failed, it were an 
Injury from me to the constancy of that noble 
Lady, If I should not, as soon as the promises, 
do some act of assurance of the performance; 
which I have done, as I say, in fixing times to 
my creditors; for by the end of next terme, I 
will make an end with the world, by Gods 
grace. I lack you here, for my L. of Dorset, 
he might make a cheap bargain with me now, 
and disingage his honour, which in good faith, 
is a little bound, because he admitted so many 
witnesses of his large disposition towards me. 
They are preparing for a Masque of Gentle- 
men 



Persons of Honour. 129 

men: in which M. Villars is, and M. Karre, 
whom I told you before my L. Chamberlain 
had brought into the bed-chamber. I pray, 
if you make not so thick goings as you used, 
send this Letter to that good woman, for it is 
not only mine. If I could stay this Letter an 
hour, I should send you something of Savoy, 
for Sir Rob. Rich, who is now come from Court, 
hath laid a commandment upon me by mes- 
sage to waite upon him; and I know his busi- 
nes, because he never sought me, but in one 
kinde. But the importunity of the houre 
excuses me, and delivers you from further 
trouble from 

13 Decemb. Your very true friend and servant 

J. Donne. 

[xHx.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Love to give you advantages upon me, 
therefore I put my self in need of another 
pardon from you, by not comming to you ; yet 
I am scarce guilty enough to spend much of 
your vertue from you, because I knew not of 
your being come till this your Letter told me 

so 



130 Letters to sever all 

so, in the midst of dinner at Peckham, this 
Monday. Sir, I am very truly yours; if you 
have overvalued me in any capacity, I will do 
what I can to overtake your hopes of me. I 
wish my self whatsoever you wish me; and so 
I do, what ever you wish your self. I am 
prisoner and close; else I had not needed this 
pardon, for I long much, and much more by 
occasion of your Letter, to see you: when you 
finde that good Lady emptiest of businesse 
and pleasure, present my humble thanks; you 
can do me no favour, which I need not, nor any, 
which I cannot have some hope to deserve, but 
this; for I have made her opinion of me, the 
ballance by which I weigh my self. I will 
come soon enough to deliver my thanks to 
Sir J. Harr[ington\ for your ease, whom I 
know I have pained with an ilfavoured Letter; 
but my heart hath one style, and character, 
and is yours in wishing, and in thankfulnesse. 

J. Donne. 

Peckham Monday afternoon. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 131 

[1.] 

To the Honourable Sir R. D. 
Sir, 

I Gave no answer to the Letter I received 
from you upon Tuesday, both because I 
had in it no other commandment by it but to 
deliver your Letter therein, which I did, and 
because that Letter found me under very much 
sadnesse, which (according to the proportion 
of ills that fall upon me) is since also increased, 
so that I had not written now, if I had been 
sure to have been better able to write next 
week, which I have not much appearance of: 
yet there was committed to my disposition 
(that is, left at my house in my absence) a 
Letter from Sir JV. Lover, but it was some 
hours after all possibility of sending it by the 
carrier, so that M'" /F. Stanhope giving me 
the honour of a visite at that time, and being 
instantly to depart, for your parts, did me the 
favour to undertake the delivery of it to you. 
With me, Sir, it is thus : there is not one person 
(besides my self) in my house well. I have 
already lost half a child, and with that mis- 
chance of hers, my wife fallen into an indis- 
position, which would afflict her much, but 

that 



132, Letters to sever all 

that the sicknesse of her children stupefies her: 
of one of which, in good faith, I have not much 
hope. This meets a fortune so ill provided for 
physique and such relief, that if God should 
ease us with burials, I know not well how to 
performe even that. I flatter my self In this, 
that I am dying too: nor can I truly dye 
faster, by any waste, then by losse of children. 
But Sir, I will mingle no more of my sadness 
to you, but wil a little recompense it, by tell- 
ing you that my L. Harrington^ of whom a few 
days since they were doubtfull, is so well re- 
covered that now they know all his disease 
to be the Pox, and Measels mingled. This I 
heard yesterday: for I have not been there yet. 
I came as near importunity as I could, for an 
answer from Essex house, but this was all, 
that he should see you shortly himselfe. 

Your servant 

J. Donne. 

/ cannot tell you so much, as you tell 
me, of any thing from my Lord of Som 
[erset] since the Epithalamion,for I heard 
nothing. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 133 

[H.j 
To the Honourable Knight Sir H. Goodere. 

S I R, 

I Have but one excuse for not sending you 
the Sermon that you do me the honour 
to command, and I foresee that before I take 
my hand from this paper, I shall lose the 
benefit of that excuse; it is that for more than 
twenty days, I have been travelled [travailed] 
with a pain, In my right wrist, so like the Gout, 
as makes me unable to write. The writing of 
this Letter will Implore a commentary for that, 
that I cannot write legibly; for that I cannot 
write much, this Letter will testlfie against 
me. Sir, I beseech you, at first, tell your com- 
pany, that I decline not the service out of sul- 
lennesse nor lazinesse, nor that any fortune 
damps me so much, as that I am not sensible 
of the honour of their commanding it, but a 
meer inexperience whether I be able to write 
eight hours or no; but I will try next week, 
and either do It, for their service, or sink in 
their service. This Is Thursday: and upon 
Tuesday my Lady Bedford came to this town: 
this afternoon I presented my service to her, 

by 



134 Letters to several! 

by M"^ Withrington: and so asked leave to 
have waited upon them at supper: but my 
messenger found them ready to go into their 
Coach : so that a third Letter which I received 
from M"^ Dudley, referring me to M"* 
Withringtons relation of all that State, I lose 
it till their return to this town. To clear you 
in that wherein I see by your Letter that I had 
not well expressed my self in mine, Sir Ed. 
Herbert writ to Sir Ed. Sackvil, not to presse 
the King to fix any certain time of sending 
him, till he was come over, and had spoken 
with the King: Sir Ed. Sackvil collects upon 
that, that Sir Ed. H. means to go again; I 
think it is only, that he would have his honour 
so saved, as not to seem to be recalled, by 
having a successor, before he had emptied the 
place. We hear nothing from my Lord of 
Doncaster; nor have we any way to send to him. 
I have not seen my Lady Doncaster, for 
she crost to Penhurst, and from thence to 
Petworth; my Lady Isabella came to this 
Town, where, before her comming, a Letter 
attended her from my Lady of Tichfield: and 
thither she went, with their servants, who 
staid her comming. Hither came lately Let- 
ters with goodspeed from Vienna, in which 

there 



Persons of Honour. 135 

there is no mention of any such defeat, as in 
rumour C[ount] Mansfeld hath been said to 
have given to the D[uke] of Bavyer [Bavaria] 
but their forces were then within such dis- 
tance, as may have procured something before 
this time. Those which watched advantages 
in the Court of the Emperour, have made that 
use of C[ount] Mansfelds proceedings, as that 
my Lord Digby complains, that thereby the 
forwardnesse in which his negotiation was, 
is somewhat retarded. He proceeds from 
thence into Spain. The D. of Bavyer hath 
presented the Emperour an account of 1200"^' 
[£1,200,000] steding in that warre, to be re- 
imbursed: and finding the Palatinate to be in 
treaty, hath required a great part of Austria 
for his security, and they say, it is so trans- 
acted; which is a good signe of a possibility in 
the restitution of the Palatinate. For any 
thing I discern, their fears are much greater 
from Hungary^ then from Bohemia; and the 
losse of Canon, in a great proportion, and 
other things, at the death of Bucquoy, was 
much greater, then they suffered to be pub- 
lished. We here Spinola is passed over at 
Rhenebery [Rheinsberg]; if it be so, they are no 
longer distracted, whether he would bend upon 

Juliers 



136 



Letters to several! 



Juliers, or the Palatinate. I know not what 
you hear from your noble son in law, who sees 
those things clearly in himself, and in the near 
distance; but I hear here, that the King hath 
much lost the affection of the English in those 
parts. Whether it proceed from any sowre- 
nesse in him, or that they be otherwise taken 
off, from applying themselves to him, I know 
not. My Lord of S. Albons [St. Albans] hath 
found so much favour as that a pension of 
2000 /. will be given him; he desires that he 

might have it for [ ] years, that so he 

might transferre it upon his creditors, or that 
in place of it he might have 8000 /. for he hath 
found a disposition in his creditors (to whom 
I hear he hath paid 3000 /. since by retyring) 
to accept 8000 /. for all his debts, which are 
three times as much. I have been some times 
with my L. of Canterbury, since by [sic] acci- 
dent, to give you his own words. I see him 
retain his former cheerfulnesse here and at 
Croydon, but I do not hear from Court, that he 
hath any ground for such a confidence, but 
that his case may need favour, and not have 
it. That place, and Bedington, and Chelsey, 
and Highgate, where that very good man my 
Lord Hobard is, and Hackney, with the 

M[aster] 



Persons of Honour. 137 

M[aster] of the Rolls, and my familiar Peck- 
ham, are my circumferrence. No place so 
eccentrique to me, as that I lye just at London; 
and with those fragmentary recreations I must 
make shift to recompense the missing of that 
contentment which your favour opens to me, 
and my desire provokes me to, the kissing of 
your hands at Polesworth. My daughter Con- 
stance is at this time with me, for the empti- 
nesseof the town hath made me, who otherwise 
live upon the almes of others, a housekeeper, 
for a moneth; and so she is my servant below 
stairs, and my companion above: she was at 
the table with me, when your Letter was 
brought, and I pay her a piece of her petition 
in doing her this office, to present her ser- 
vice to my Lady Nethersoles, and her very 
good sister. But that she is gone to bed two 
hours before I writ this, she should have signed 
with such a hand as your daughter Mary did 
to me, that which I testifie for her, that she is 
as affectionate a servant to them all, as their 
goodnesse hath created any where. Sir, I 
shall recompense my tediousnesse, in closing 
mine eyes with a prayer for yours, as for mine 
own happinesse, for I am almost in bed; if 
it were my last bed, and I upon my last busi- 

nesse 



138 



Letters to severall 



nesse there, I should not omit to joyn you 
with 

Your very humble and very thankfull 
Aug. 30. 161 1. [21] servant in Christ Jesus 

J. Donne. 

[Ui.] 
To his honourable friend S'' H. G. 

SIR, 

TO you that are not easily scandalized, 
and in whom, I hope, neither my Re- 
ligion nor Morality can suffer, I dare write my 
opinion of that Book in whose bowels you left 
me. It hath refreshed, and given new justice 
to my ordinary complaint. That the Divines 
of these times, are become meer Advocates, 
as though Religion were a temporall inheri- 
tance; they plead for it with all sophistications, 
and illusions and forgeries : And herein are they 
likest Advocates, that though they be feed by 
the way, with Dignities, and other recom- 
penses, yet that for which they plead is none 
of theirs. They write for Religion, without it. 
In the main point in question, I think truly 
there is a perplexity (as farre as I see yet) and 
both sides may be in justice, and innocence; 
and the wounds which they inflict upon the 

adverse 



Persons of Honour. 139 

adverse part, are all se defendendo: for, clearly, 
our State cannot be safe without the Oath; 
since they professe, that Clergie-men, though 
Traitors, are no Subjects, and that all the rest 
may be none to morrow. And, as clearly, the 
Supremacy which the Ro[man] Church pre- 
tend, were diminished, if it were limited; and 
will as ill abide that, or disputation, as the 
Prerogative of temporall Kings, who being the 
onely judges of their prerogative, why may 
not Roman Bishops, (so enlightened as they 
are presumed by them) be good witnesses of 
their own supremacie, which is now so much 
impugned? But for this particular Author, 
I looked for more prudence, and humane wis- 
dome in Him, in avoiding all miscitings, or mis- 
interpretings, because at this time, the watch 
is set, and every bodies hammer is upon that 
anvill; and to dare offend in that kinde now, 
is, for a theef to leave the covert, and meet a 
strong hue and cry in the teeth: and yet truly 
this man is extremely obnoxious in that kinde; 
for, though he have answered many things 
fully, (as no book ever gave more advantage 
then that which he undertook) and abound 
in delicate applications, and ornaments, from 
the divine and prophane authors, yet being 

chiefly 



140 Letters to sever all 

chiefly conversant about two points,^he pre- 
varicates in both. For, for the matter, which 
is the first, he referres it intirely, and namely, 
to that which D[ean] Morton hath said therein 
before, and so leaves it roundly: And for the 
person (which is the second) upon whom he 
amasses as many opprobries, as any other 
could deserve, he pronounceth, that he will 
account any answer from his adversary, 
slaunder, except he do (as he hath done) draw 
whatsoever he saith of him, from Authors of 
the same Religion, and in print: And so, he 
having made use of all the Quodlibetaries, im- 
putations against the other, cannot be obnox- 
ious himself in that kinde, and so hath provided 
safely. It were no service to you, to send you 
my notes upon the Book, because they are 
sandy, and incoherent ragges, for my memory, 
not for your judgment; and to extend them 
to an easinesse, and perspicuity, would make 
them a Pamphlet, not a Letter. I will there- 
fore deferre them till I see you; and in the 
mean time, I will adventure to say to you, 
without inserting one unnecessary word, that 
the Book is full of falsifications in words, and 
in sense, and of falshoods in matter of fact, 
and of inconsequent and unscholarlike argu- 

ings 



Persons of Honour, 141 

ings, and of relinquishing the King, in many 
points of defence, and of contradiction of him- 
self, and of dangerous and suspected Doctrine 
in Divinitie, and of silly ridiculous triflings, 
and of extreme flatteries, and of neglecting 
better and more obvious answers, and of let- 
ting slip some enormous advantages which 
the other gave, and he spies not. I know (as I 
begun) I speak to you who cannot be scanda- 
lized, and that neither measure Religion (as 
it is now called) by Unitie, nor suspect Unity, 
for these interruptions. Sir, not onely a 
Mathematique point, which is the most indi- 
visible and unique thing which art can present, 
flowes into every line which is derived from 
the Center, but our soul which is but one, 
hath swallowed up a Negative, and feeling 
soul; which was in the body before it came, 
and exercises those faculties yet; and God 
himselfe, who only is one, seems to have been 
eternally delighted, with a disunion of persons. 
They whose active function it is, must endev- 
our this unity in Religion: and we at our lay 
Altars (which are our tables, or bedside, or 
stools, wheresoever we dare prostrate our 
selves to God in prayer) must beg it of him: 
but we must take heed of making miscon- 

clusions 



142* Letters to sever a II 

elusions upon the want of it: for, whether the 
Maior and Aldermen fall out, (as with us and 
the Puritans; Bishops against Priests) or the 
Commoners voyces differ who is Maior, and 
who Aldermen, or what their Jurisdiction, 
(as with the Bishop of Rome, or whosoever) 
yet it is still one Corporation. 

Micham, Thurs- Your very affectionate servant and 

day late. lover J. Donne. 

Never leave the remembrance of my poor 
service unmentioned when you see the good 
Lady. 



[liii.] 
To S' T. H. 

SIR, 

THis evening, which Is 5 October, I finde 
your Letter of Michaelmas day, and 
though I see by it, that it is a return of a 
Letter, not of the last weeks, and thereupon 
make account, that my last weeks Letter hath 
satisfied you in some things which this Letter 
commands, concerning Pauls, yet for other 
things I would give you a drowsie relation, 
for it is that time of night, tho[u]gh I called it 

evening 



Persons of Honour. 143 

evening. At the Kings going from hence, 
upon Munday last, we made account to have 
seen Sir John Sutclin Secretary, and Sir Rob. 
Weston Chancellor of the Exchequer, but 
they are not done, but both are fixed: my L. 
Cranfield received his staffe, with these two 
suits obtained from the King, That all Assign- 
ations might be transferred into the Ex- 
chequer, and so no paiments charged upon 
the Customes, nor Receivers, nor the Court 
of Wards, &c. And that for a time there 
might be a damp cast upon Pensions, till they 
might be considered. In the Low Countries 
the Armies stirre not. In the Palatinate Sir 
H. Vere attempting the regaining of Wienie 
Castle, was surprised with the Enemy in so 
much strength, that they write it over for a 
Master-piece, that he was able to make a 
retreat to Manheme [Mannheim] : so that now 
the Enemy is got on that side the River which 
Heydelberg is on, and I know nothing that can 
stand in his way. My L. Dighy comes from 
Vienna, before he goes into Spain, by Count 
Mansfield, by the Palatinate, by Paris; and 
therefore upon his comming, I shall be able to 
say something to you. In Sir Johji Sutclin I 
presume you see an end of Sir Ro. Naunton, 

and 



144 Letters to sever all 

and we see an end of M'' Tho. Murray too; I 
beleeve he comes no more to the Prince. For 
the triall of my L. of Canterburies irregularity, 
there is a Commission to sixe Bishops, London, 
Winchester, Rochester, and three onely elect, 
Lincoln, S. Davids, and Exeter: two Judges, 
L. Hobard, and Dodridge; two Civilians, Sir H. 
Martin, and D[r.] Steward. The consecration 
of these elect Bishops, and consequently, my 
being Dean, must attend the issue of this 
Commission. Sir Tho. Roe is gone. The 
Proclamations of putting off the Parliament, 
till February, are like to outrun this Letter. 
It is very late; and it is one act, to say Grace 
after Supper, and to commend my self into 
the hands of my blessed Saviour, in my bed, 
and so close this Letter, and mine eies, with 
the same blessing upon all your family. Amen 

Your poor servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 14^ 

[Hv.] 
To Sir H. G. 



SIR, 



I Receive this 14 your Letter of the 10. yet 
I am not come to an understanding how 
these Carriers keep daies: for I would fain 
think that the Letters which I sent upon 
Thursday last might have given you such an 
account of the state of my family, that you 
needed not have asked by this. But Sir, it 
hath pleased God to adde thus much to my 
affliction, that my wife hath now confessed her 
self to be extremely sick; she hath held out 
thus long to assist me, but is now overturn'd, 
& here we be in two beds, or graves; so that 
God hath marked out a great many of us, but 
taken none yet. I have passed ten daies with- 
out taking any thing; so that I think no man 
can live more thriftily. I have purged and 
vexed my body much since I writ to you, and 
this day I have missed my fit: and this is the 
first time, that I could discern any intermis- 
sion. This is enough, the rest I will spend 
upon the parts of your Letter: Your Letter at 
Pauls is delivered. In the History of that 
remove, this onely perchance may be news to 

you 



146 Letters to several! 

you, that M"" Alabaster hath got of the King 
the Deans best Living worth above 300 ', 
which the Dean had good hope to have held 
a while. Of that which you writ concerning 
a Book of the Nullity, I have heard no syllable 
any other way. If you have received it by 
good hands, I beleeve it with you: otherwise 
the report is naturally very incredible. 
Though the answering of it be a work for some, 
both of better abilities really, and in common 
reputation also, yet I was like enough to have 
had some knowledge thereof. You mention 
again some thing which it seems you are 
not willing I should understand of my Lady 
Huntington: some of your former Letters, have 
spoken of some other former Letters, (which I 
never saw) which speak of the matter as of a 
history and thing done; and these later Let- 
ters speak of it Prophetically, as of a future 
contingent. I am glad the often remem- 
brance of it, gives me often occasion of thank- 
fulnesse to her, for retaining me in her mem- 
ory, and of professing my self in my end, and 
ways, her most humble servant. For your 
Parliament businesse, I should be very sorry, 
if you came not up, because I presume you had 
seposed many businesses, to have been done 

at 



Persons of Honour. 147 

at that time; but in the ways wherein you 
have gone, I protest I am diffident. For first, 
for that L[ord] whom you solicited by Letters 
through me, I tell you with the whispering of 
a secret, but the confidence of a friend, that 
you will be deceived whensoever you think 
that he should take any delight in doing you 
a courtesie. And I am afraid, the true hearti- 
nesse of the other noble Gentleman M. 
Howard, will be of small use in this perticular, 
if he have but solicited my L. his father to 
reserve a blanke for his friend, for my L. hath 
suffered more denialls, even in places where 
he sent names, then could have been feared. 
Besides M. How[ard\ hath not written to his 
father therein, but to M. Woodward, who per- 
ceiving those Letters to be written, before his 
purpose of being Knight for the shire, thinkes 
these Letters extinguished. You made me 
offer so long since of a place (it was when you 
writ into the west) yet I could think it no 
merit to have offered you one since, otherwise 
it hath been since in my power, for since the 
M"" of the Rolls provided me one. Sir Ed. 
Herbert, who makes haste away, made me a 
present of his; and I have had a third offer. 
The businesse of your last weeks Letter con- 
cerning 



148 



Letters to several/ 



cerning the widow, is not a subject for a 
feverous mans consideration. Therefore I 
only send you back those Letters which you 
sent; and aske you leave to make this which 
I am fain to call my good day, so much truly 
good, as to spend the rest of it with D[octor] 
Layfield, who is, upon my summons, at this 
hour come to me. My Physicians have made 
me afraid, that this disease will work into my 
head, and so put me into lightnesses, therefore 
I am desirous that I be understood before any 
such danger overtake me. 

14. March. Your true -poor servant 

J. Donne. 

[Iv.] 
To the Honourable Knight Sir H. G. 

Sir, 

AFter I have told you, that the Lady Hay 
dyed last Tuesday, and that to her end 
she was anguished with the memory of the 
execution of that fellow which attempted her 
in the coach, I have told you all which hath 
fallen out here. Except between you and me 
that may be worth the telling, that my L. 
Chancellor gave me so noble and so ready a 

dispatch 



Persons of Honour. 149 

dispatch, accompanied with so fatherly advise, 
and remorse for my fortunes, that I am now, 
hke an Alchymist, delighted with discoveries 
by the way, though I attain not mine end. 
It spent me so little time after your going, 
that, although you speak in your Letter of 
good dispatch in your going, yet I might have 
overtaken you. And though perchace if I 
had gone, it might have been inconvenient 
for me, to have put my self into my L. Cham- 
berlains presence, if that sicknesse be earnest 
at Ashhy, and so I should nothing have ad- 
vanced my businesse, yet I should have come 
to that noble Lady with better confidence, 
and more assurance of a pardon, when I had 
brought a conscience, that I came despoiled 
of all other respects, only to kisse her hands, 
in whose protection I am, since I have nor 
desire other station, then a place in her good 
opinion. I took so good contentment in the 
fashion which my L. Chancellor used towards 
me, that out of a voluptuous loathnesse to let 
that taste go out of my mouth, I forbear to 
make any further tryall in that businesse till 
the King come into these quarters. So that. 
Sir, I am here in place to serve you, if either 
I be capable of your commandments, or this 

town 



150 Letters to sever all 

town give any thing worth the writing. As 
often as you see your noble friend, and her 
good sister, allow my name a room in your 
discourse; it is a short one, and you will soon 
have done. But tell them not my desire to 
do them service, for then you engage your self 
in a longer discourse, then I am worthy. 
Only in pursuit of your commandment I sent 
the Paquet to the Post, for in mine own under- 
standing, there should appear small hope of 
arriving by that way, except you know other- 
wise that the LL. [Lords] mean to make some 
stay in their return, in those parts: but the 
Letter is brought back again, for the Post 
went away yesterday, and they knew of no 
occasion of sending till next week. There- 
fore except I can inform my self of some good 
means, I will retain it, till I have a fresh com- 
mandment from you. I see M. Taverner still 
in this town, the Lady Carey went from hence 
but yesterday. I am in some perplexity what 
to doe with this pacquet, till some good for- 
tune, or your Letters clear me. 

Aug. 19. Your humble servant 

J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 151 

[Ivi.] 
To Sir H. Goodere at Polesworth. 

SIRj 

IT is true that M. Gherard told you, I had 
that commandment from the King signi- 
fied to me by my L[ord] and am still under it, 
and we are within fourteen days of our time for 
going. I leave a scattered flock of wretched 
children, and I carry an infirme and vale- 
tudinary body, and I goe into the mouth of 
such adversaries, as I cannot blame for hating 
me, the Jesuits, and yet I go. Though this be 
no service to my Lord: yet I shall never come 
nearer doing him a service, nor do any thing 
liker a service then this. Yesterday we had 
news by Sir Now ell Carou [Noel Caron], from 
Paris y that the D[uke] of Savoy was elected 
King of Bohemia; which would cut off a great 
part of the occasion of our going: but it is not 
much credible in it self, nor at all beleeved 
here, because it is not signified from Savoy, nor 
Heidelberg. Since M. Gher [Mr. Gerrard] 
continues your Gazittier, I need tell you 
nothing of the Q[ueen] of Frances estate. For 
your commandment in memory of M. Martin, 
I should not have sate so many processes, if 

I 



i^z Letters to sever all 

I could incline my thoughts that way. It is 
not lazinesse, it is not gravity, nor coldnesse 
towards his memory, or your service; for I 
have thought of it oftener, and longer, then 
I was wont to do in such things, and nothing 
is done. Your last pacquet, in which your 
daughter and I were joynt-commissioners, 
was brought to me, because she was at Hamp- 
tofiy with the Queens body: but I sent her part 
to her, and my La[dy] Uvedalls to her, who pre- 
sents her service to you by me now, and says 
she will write next week, and so will I too, by 
Gods grace. You forget me absolutely and 
intirely, whensoever you forget me to that 
noble Countesse. God blesse you in all. Amen. 

9 Martii. Your true servant in Jes. Chr. 

J. Donne. 

[Ivii.I 
To the best Knight Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

AT your conveniency, I pray send my Lady 
Bedford this inclosed, but be pleased to 
put your self to some inconvenience, (if it be 
so) to kisse my Lady Ruthins [Ruthyn's] hands 
in my name, and to present my very humble 
service to her, and tell her, that no ill con- 
science 



Persons of Honour, 153 

science of having deserved her, but only an 
obedience to her commandments, keeps me 
from saying to her self thus much; that this 
day I received a letter from my L[ord] of Kent, 
written yesterday at Wrest: in that his Lord- 
ship[s] sends me word, that that favour which 
he hath formerly done me, in giving me Blou- 
ham [Blonham], is now likely to fall upon me, 
because the Incumbent is dangerously ill: and 
because this is the season in which he removes 
from Wrest thither, he desires (for I give you 
his own word) that he may be accommodate 
there, (if it fall now) as heretofore. Out of my 
absolute and intire readiness to serve that 
family, I sent back his messenger with this 
answer, that I esteemed it a great part of my 
good fortune, that I should become worthy 
to be commanded by him. If my Lady will 
be pleased to direct me in what particular 
manner I may best serve her purposes, I shall 
gladly waite upon her at any time, to receive 
her command with as much devotion and 
thankfulnesse as I received the benefit. I 
beseech you make her beleeve it, as in any 
place you beleeve 

26 Febr. 1621. Your poor servant in Chr. Jes. 

J. Donne. 

To 



154 Letters to several! 

[Iviii.] 
To my best of friends Sir H. G. 

Sir, 

I Heard not from you this week; therefore 
I write more willingly, because it hath in 
it so much more merit. And I might do it 
very cheaply, since to convey to you this 
Letter, which mine hath the honour to bring, 
any little Letter would serve, and be accept- 
able for that. Because it came not last week, 
I went now to solicite it, and she sent it me 
next day with some thankes, and some excuse 
that she knew not me, when I was with her. 
You know, I do not easily put my self into 
those hazards, nor do much brag of my valor 
now, otherwise then I purposed it for a ser- 
vice to you. The newest thing that I know 
in the world, is my new son: whose mothers 
being well takes off from me any new waight 
upon my fortune. I hear in Newgate, that 
M. Mathew Is dead. The Catholiques beleeve 
it there: perchance out of a custome of cre- 
dulity. But the report is close prisoner; for 
I never met it abroad. This is my third 
letter, all which I sent by Spelty whom my 
boy found at Ahington house. I have now 

two 



Persons of Honour. 155 

two of the best happinesses which could befall 
me, upon me; which are, to be a widower and 
my wife alive, which may make you know, 
that it is but for your ease, that this letter is 
no longer, in this leasure in which (having 
nothing else to write) I might vary a thousand 
ways that I am 

Monday at night. Your very affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 

[lix.J 
To my worthy friend G. K. 

SIR, 

I Receive this heare [hour] that I begin this 
return, your Letter by a servant of Sir G. 
Greseley, by whom also I hasten this dispatch. 
This needs no enlargement since it hath the 
honour to convey one from M. Gherard. But 
though by telling me, it was a bold letter, I had 
leave to open It, and that I have a little itch to 
make some animadversions & Criticismes upon 
it (as that there is a ciphar too much in the sum 
of the Kings debts, and such like) yet since 
my eyes do easily fall back to their distemper, 
and that I am this night to sup at Sir Ar. 
IngramSy I had rather forfeit their little 

strength 



IS6 



Letters to severall 



strength at his supper, then with writing such 
impertinencies : the best spending them, is 
upon the rest of your Letter, to which, Sir, 
I can only say in generall, that Some appear- 
ances have been here, of some treatise concern- 
ing this NulHty, which are said to proceed 
from Geneva; but are beleeved to have been 
done within doors, by encouragements of some 
whose names I will not commit to this letter. 
My poor study having lyen that way, it may 
prove possible that my weak assistance may 
be of use in this matter, in a more serious 
fashion, then an Epithalamion. This made 
me therefore abstinent in that kinde; yet by 
my troth, I think I shall not scape. I depre- 
hend in my self more then an alacrity, a vehe- 
mency to do service to that company; and so, 
I may finde reason to make rime. If it be 
done, I see not how I can admit that circuit 
of sending them to you, to be sent hither; 
that seems a kinde of praying to Saints, to 
whom God must tell first, that such a man 
prays to them to pray to him. So that I 
shall lose the honour of that conveyance; 
but, for recompense, you shall scape the 
danger of approving it. My next Letter shall 
say more of this. This shall end with deliver- 
ing 



Persons of Honour. 157 

ing you the remembrance of my Lady Bartlet, 
who is present at the seaHng hereof. 

Your very true and affectionate servant 
Jan. 19. 

J. Donne. 

Which name when there is any empty 
corner in your discourse with that noble 
Lady at Ashby, / humbly beseech you to 
present to her as one more devoted to her 
service then perchance you will say. 

[Ix.] 
To Sir G. B. 

SIR, 

BEtween the time of making up my other 
Letters, and the hour that your man 
limited me to call for them, came to my house 
an other pacquet directed to him: for by this 
time, the carrier is as wise, as his horse, to go 
to the house that he hath used to go. I found 
liberty in the superscription to open, and so 
I did; but for that part which concerns him, 
I must attend his comming hither, for I know 
not where to seek him; and besides, I have 
enough to say for that part which concerns 
my self. Sir, even in the Letter it self to me, 

I 



158 



Letters to several! 



I deprehend much inclination, to chide me: 
and it is but out of your habit of good language 
that you spare me. So little occasion as that 
postscript of mine, could not bring you so near 
to it, if nothing else were mistaken, which (so 
God help me) was so little, that I remember 
not what it was, and I would no more hear 
again what I write in an ofhcious Letter, then 
what I said at a drunken supper. I had no 
purpose to exercise your diligence in presenting 
my name to that Lady, but either I did, or 
should have said, that I writ onely to fill up 
any empty corner in your discourse. So, Sir, 
the reading of the Letter, was a kinde of travell 
to me, but when I came to the paper inclosed, 
I was brought to bed of a monster. To ex- 
presse my self vehemently quickly, I must 
say, that I can scarce think, that you have 
read M. Gherards letter rightly, therefore I 
send you back your own again. I will not 
protest against my being such a knave, for no 
man shall have that from me, if he expect it: 
but I will protest against my being such a 
fool, as to depose any thing in him with hope 
of locking it up, and against that lownesse, of 
seeking reputation by so poor a way. I am 
not so sorry, that I am a narrow man, as that 

for 



Persons of Honour. 159 

for all the narrownesse, you have not seen 
through me yet, nor known me perfectly; for 
I might think by this, (if I had not other 
testimony) that I have been little in your con- 
templation. Sixteen letters from M. Gherard, 
could not (I think) perswade a Middlesex Jury 
of so much dishonesty in 

Your true servant 
J. Donne. 



[ki.] 
To the Honourable Knight Sir G. P. 

SIR, 

I Would have intermitted this week with- 
out writing, if I had not found the name 
of my Lady Huntington in your Letter. The 
devotion which I owe, and (in good faith) pay 
in my best prayers for her good in all kinde 
awakens me to present my humble thanks for 
this, that her Ladiship retains my name in her 
memory: she never laid obligation upon any 
man, readier to expresse his acknowledgement 
of them, to any servant of her servants; I am 
bound to say much of this, for your indemnity; 
because though I had a little preparation to 
her knowledge in the house where I served at 

first 



i6o Letters to sever a 11 

first, yet I think, she took her characters of me, 
from you: And, at what time soever she 
thought best of me in her Hfe, I am better than 
that, for my goodnesse is my thankfulnesse, 
and I am every day fuller of that then before, 
to her L^P. I say nothing to you of forein 
names in this Letter, because your son Sir 
Francis is here. For that which you write 
concerning your son, I onely gave my man 
Martin in charge, to use his interest in the 
Keeper, that your son should fall under no 
wants there, which it seems your son dis- ' 
charged, for I hear not of them. For other 
trifles, I bad my man let him have whatsoever 
he asked, so, as it might seem to come from 
him, and not me; and laying that look upon it, 
it came to almost nothing. Tell both your 
daughters a peece of a storie of my Con. which 
may accustome them to endure disappoint- 
ments in this world: An honourable person 
(whose name I give you in a schedule to burn, 
lest this Letter should be mis-laid) had an 
intention to give her one of his sons, and had 
told it me, and would have been content to 
accept what I, by my friends, could have 
begged for her; but he intended that son to my 
Profession, and had provided him already 

300 



Persons of Honour. i6i 

300 ' a year, of his own gift in Church livings, 
and hath estated 300 more of inheritance 
for their children: and now the youth, (who 
yet knows nothing of his fathers intention nor 
mine) flies from his resolutions for that Call- 
ing, and importunes his Father to let him 
travell. The girle knows not her losse, for I 
never told her of it: but truly, it is a great dis- 
appointment to me. More then these. Sir, 
we must all suffer, in our ways to heaven, 
where, I hope you and all yours shall meet 

Your poor friend, and affectionate servant 
J. Donne, 
18 Octob. 
1622. 

[Ixii.j 
To my much honoured friend S' T. Lucy. 

SIR, 

I Have scarce had at any time any thing so 
like news to write to you, as that I am at 
this Town; we came from Spa with so much 
resolution of passing by Holland. But at 
Ma[a\5tricht we found that the lownesse, and 
slacknesse of the River, would incommodate us 
so much, as we charged [changed] our whole 
gests, and came hither by Land. In the way at 

L6[u\vaine 



1 62 Letters to sever all 

Lo[u]va{ne we met the E[arl] of Arondel^ to 
recompense the losse wee had of missing my L. 
Chandis [Chandos] and his company, who came 
to Spa within a few hours after we came 
away. Sir Ed. Conaway [Conway], by occa- 
sion of his bodies indisposition, was gone home 
before: he told me he had some hope of you 
about Bartholoviezutide : But because I half 
understood by a Letter from you, that you 
were determined upon the Countrie till 
Michaelmas, I am not so earnest in endevour- 
ing to prolong our stay in these parts, as other- 
wise I should. If I could joine with him In 
that hope of seeing you on this side the water; 
and if you should hold that purpose of com- 
ming at that time, I should repent extremely 
my laying of our journies; for (if we should by 
miracle hold any resolution) we should be in 
England about that time, so that I might misse 
you both here, and there. Sir, our greatest 
businesse is more in our power then the least, 
and we may be surer to meet in heaven then 
in any place upon earth; and whilst we are 
distant here, we may meet as often as we list 
in Gods presence, by soliciting in our prayers 
for one another. I received 4 Letters from 
you at Spa by long circuits. In the last, one 
from my L[ord] Dorset: I, who had a con- 
science 



Persons of Honour, 163 

science of mine own unworthinesse of any 
favour from him, could not chuse but present 
my thanks for the least. I do not therefore 
repent my forwardnesse in that office; and I 
beseech you not to repent your part therein. 
Since we came to this Town, there arrived an 
Extraordinary from Spain, with a reconfirma- 
tion of the D[uke] d'Aumals Pension, which is 
thereby 2400 a year, & he brings the title 
of Count, to Rodrigo de C alder on, who from a 
very low place, having grown to be Secretary 
to Lerma, is now Ambassador here, and in 
great opinion of wisdome: They say yet he 
goes to Prague with the Marquis Spinola, 
and the G[raf] Buquoy, to congratulate the 
Emperour; but we all conclude here, that per- 
sons of such quality, being great in matter of 
Warre, are not sent for so small an emploi- 
ment: we beleeve certainly, that they deliber- 
ate a Warre, and that the reduction of Jix 
being not worthy this diligence, their inten- 
tions must be upon Cleve[s]y for the new Town 
which the two Princes make by Collen [Cologne^ 
despites them much. The Elector of Ments 
[Mainti:] hath lately been here, upon pretence 
of comming in devotion to Sichem, and shortly 
the Electors of Colein [Cologne] and Saxony 
are to be here severally: all concurs to a dis- 
position 



164 



Letters to several/ 



I 



position of such a Warre, and the Landsgrave 
of Hasse [Hesse] (who is as yet in the Union) 
is much soHcited and caressed by this party, 
and I doubt, will prove a frail and corruptible 
man. I durst think confidently, that they 
will at least proceed so far towards a Warre, 
as to try how France will dispose it self in the 
businesse: for it is conceived that the D. of 
Bovillon [Bouillon] brought to our K[ing] good 
assurances from the Qu[een] Regent, that she 
would pursue all her husbands purposes in 
advancing the designes of those Princes who 
are in possession of Cleve[s], and in the Union. 
If she declare her self to do so, when they 
stirre, they are like to divert their purposes; 
but if she stand but neutrall (as it is likely, 
considering how Spanish the Court is at this 
time) I see not that the Princes of the Union 
are much likely to retard them. Sir, you see 
what unconcerning things I am fain to write 
of, lest I should write of myself, who am so 
little a history or tale, that I should not hold 
out to make a Letter long enough to send over 
a Sea to you; for I should dispatch my self in 
this one word that I am 

Aug. 16. here. Your affectionate servant and lover 

1622. J- Donne, 

To 



Persons of Honour. 165 

[IxHi.] 
To the honourable Knight Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

Since I received a Letter by your sonne, 
whom I have not yet had the honour 
to see, I had a Letter Pacquet from you by 
M*^ Roe: To the former, I writ before: In this 
I have no other commandement from you, but 
to tell you, whether M"" Vill[i\ers have received 
from the K[ing] any additions of honour, or 
profit. Without doubt he hath yet none. 
He is here, practising for the Mask; of which, 
if I mis-remember not, I writ as much as you 
desire to know, in a Letter which seems not 
to have been come to you, when you writ. In 
the Savoy business, the King hath declared 
himself by an engagement, to assist him with 
1 00000' a year, if the Warre continue. But 
I beleeve, he must farm out your Warwickshire 
Benevolence for the paiment thereof. Upon 
the strength of this engagement. Sir Rob. 
Rich becomes confident in his hopes. If you 
stood in an equall disposition for the West, and 
onely forbore, by reason of M'" Martins silence, 
I wonder; for I think, I told you, that he was 
gone; and I saw in Sir Tho. Lucies hand, a 

Letter 



1 66 Letters to sever all 

Letter from him to you, which was Hkely to 
tell you as much. Since I came from Court, 
I have stirred very little: Now that the Court 
comes again to us, I may have something 
which you may be content to receive from 

i8. Decemb. Your very affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 



[Ixiv.] 
To my good friend Sr H. G. 

S I R, 

THE Messenger who brought me your 
Letter presented me a just excuse, for I 
received them so late upon Thursday night, 
that I should have dispatched before I could 
begin; yet I have obeyed you drowsily, and 
coldly, as the night and my indisposition 
commanded: yet perchance those hinderances 
have done good, for so your Letters are the 
lesse curious, in which, men of much leasure 
may soon exceed, when they write of busi- 
nesse, they having but a little. You mention 
two more letters then I send. The time was 
not too short for me to have written them, 
(for I had an whole night) but it was too short 

to 



Persons of Honour, 167 

to work a beleefe in me, that you could think 
it fit to go two so divers ways to one end. I 
see not, (for I see not the reason) how those 
letters could well have concurred with these, 
nor how those would well have been drawn 
from them, in a businesse wholly relating to 
this house. I was not lazie In disobeying you, 
but (I thought) only thrifty, and your request 
of those was not absolute, but conditioned, if 
I had leasure. So though that condition 
hinder them not, since another doth (and you 
forethought that one might) I am not stub- 
born. The good Countesse spake somewhat 
of your desire of letters; but I am afraid she 
is not a proper Mediatrix to those persons, but 
I counsail in the dark. And therefore return 
to that, of which I have clear light, that I am 
always glad, when I have any way to expresse 
my love; for in these commandements you 
feed my desires, and you give me means to pay 
some of my debts to you : the interest of which 
I pay in all my prayers for you, which, if it 
please not God to shew here, I hope we shall 
finde again together in heaven, whither they 
were sent, I came this morning to say thus 
much, and because the Porter which came to 
Micham summoned me for this hour to Lon- 
don 



1 68 Letters to several I 

don: from whence I am this minute returning 
to end a little course of Physick. 

Friday 8 in the morning. Yours very truly 

J. Donne. 

[Ixv.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Writ to you yesterday taking the bold- 
nesse to put a letter into the good Ladies 
pacquet for you. This morning I had this 
new occasion of writing, that Sir Tho. Roe, 
who brought this inclosed Letter to me, and 
left it unsealed, intreated me to take the first 
opportunity of sending it. Besides that which 
is in that letter (for he read it to me) I came 
to the knowledg in Yorkhouse that my L[ord] 
Chancellor hath been moved, and incensed 
against you; and asking Sir Tho. Roe, if he 
were directly or occasionally any cause of that, 
he tells me thus much, that Sir W. Lover, and 
Sir H. Carey, have obtained of my L[ord], to 
have a Pursevant, and consequently a Ser- 
geant sent into the Count rey for you. My 
L. grounds this earnestnesse against you, upon 
some refusing to appear upon processe which 

hath 



Persons of Honour. 169 

hath been taken out against you. And I per- 
ceive Sir. Ed. Eston, and both the other, 
admit consultations, of ways by petition to 
the King, or Counsail, or L[ord] Chamberlain, 
or any other. The great danger, obliquely 
likely to fall, is that when it comes to light, 
how you stand towards M. Mathezv, you may 
lose the ease which you have by colour of that 
extent, and he may lose the benefit, of having 
had so much of his estate concealed. You 
will therefore at least pardon my advising you, 
to place those sums, which by your retiring I 
presume you do imploy upon payment of 
debts, in such places as that these particular 
friends be not forced to leave being so. I 
confesse, the going about to pay debts, hastens 
importunity. I finde in my self, that where 
I was not asked money before, yet when I 
offered to pay next Terme, they seem loth to 
afford me that time, which might justly have 
been desperate before: but that which you 
told me out of the Countrey, with the assist- 
ance which I hope to finde here, (especially 
if your indevour may advance it at Dorset 
house) I hope will inable me to escape clamor, 
and an ill conscience, in that behalf. One 
thing more I must tell you; but so softly, that 

I 



170 Letters to sever all 

I am loath to hear my self: and so softly, that If 
that good Lady were in the room, with you 
and this Letter, she might not hear. It is, 
that I am brought to a necessity of printing 
my Poems, and addressing them to my L. 
Chamberlain. This I mean to do forthwith; 
not for much publique view, but at mine own 
cost, a few Copies. I apprehend some incon- 
gruities in the resolution; and I know what I 
shall suffer from many interpretations: but I 
am at an end of much considering that; and, 
if I were as startling in that kinde, as ever I. 
was, yet in this particular, I am under an un- 
escapable necessity, as I shall let you perceive, 
when I see you. By this occasion I am made 
a Rhapsoder of mine own rags, and that cost 
me more diligence, to seek them, then it did 
to make them. This made me aske to bor- 
row that old book of you, which it will be too 
late to see, for that use, when I see you : for I 
must do this, as a valediction to the world, be- 
fore I take Orders. But this is it, I am to 
aske you; whether you ever made any such use 
of the letter in verse, A nostre Countesse chez 
vous, as that I may not put it in, amongst the 
rest to persons of that rank; for I desire very 
very much, that something should bear her 

name 



Persons of Honour. 171 

name in the book, and I would be just to my 
written words to my L[ord] Harrington, to 
write nothing after that. I pray tell me as 
soon as you can, if I be at liberty to insert 
that; for if you have by any occasion applied 
any pieces of it, I see not, that it will be dis- 
cerned, when it appears in the whole piece. 
Though this be a little matter, I would be 
sorry not to have an account of it, within as 
little after Newyears tide, as you could. I 
have something else to say, of M. Villars 
[Filliers], but because I hope to see you here 
shortly, and because new additions, to the 
truths or rumours, which concern him, are 
likely to be made by occasion of this Masque, 
I forbear to send you the edition of this Mart, 
since I know it will be augmented by the next: 
of which, if you prevent it not by comming, 
you shall have by letter an account from 

Vigilia S' Tho. Your very affectionate 

1 614. friend and servant 

J. Donne. 



To 



172 Letters to sever a II 

[Ixvi.] 
To the worthy Knight Sir Tho. Lucy. 

SIR, 

YOur Letter comes to me, at Grace after 
supper; it is part of the prayer of that 
Grace, that God will blesse you, and all yours 
with his best blessings of both kinds. I 
would write you news; but your love to me, 
may make you apt to over-beleeve news for 
my sake. And truly all things that are upon 
the stage of the world now, are full of such 
uncertainties, as may justly make any man 
loth to passe a conjecture upon them; not only 
because it is hard to see how they will end, but 
because it is misintertable [sic] and dangerous 
to conjecture otherwise, then some men would 
have the event to be. That which is espe- 
cially in my contemplation, which is the issue 
of my L[ord] of Canterburies businesse (for, 
thereupon depends the consecration of my 
predecessor, upon which the Deanery devolves 
to the King) is no farther proceeded in yet, 
then that some of the 10 Commissioners have 
met once; and upon Saterday next there will 
be a fuller meeting, and an entrance into the 
businesse, upon which, much, very much in 

consequence 



Persons of Honour. 173 

consequence, depends. Of my L. of Donc\aster\ 
we are only assured, that he is in a good way 
of convalescence; but of any audience nothing 
yet. Slacken not your hold of my L. Treas- 
urer, for I have been told that you are in his 
care. I send you a Copy of that Sermon, but 
it is not my copy, which I thought my L. of 
South-hampton would have sent me backe. 
This you must be pleased to let me have again, 
for I borrow it: for the other, I will pretermit 
no time to write it; though in good faith, I 
have half forgot it. If in any letter I leave 
out the name of the La[dy] Hunt[ington] or 
La[dy] Burdell, or your daughters, tell them, 
that I named them. I take the falshood upon 
me; for I intend it very readily, and very 
humbly, where I am good for any thing in any 
of their services. Our blessed Saviour con- 
tinue and enlarge his blessings to you all, 
Amen. 

Your humble servant in Chr. Jes. 
II Octob. 1621. J. Donne. 

Why do you say nothing of, my little book of Cases. 



To 



174 Letters to several! 



[Ixvii.] 
To Sir G. B. 

Sir, 

IT is one of my blinde Meditations to think 
what a miserable defeat it would be to all 
these preparations of braverie, if my infirmity 
should overtake others : for, I am at least half 
blinde, my windows are all as full of glasses of 
Waters, as any Mountebanks stall This 
messenger makes haste, I thank him for it; 
therefore I onely send you this Letter, which 
was sent to me about three dales past, and my 
promise to distribute your other Letters, 
according to your addresses, as fast as my 
Monsieur can doe it; for, for any personall 
service, you must be content, at this time, to 
pardon 

Decemb. 23. Your affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour, 175 

[Ixviii.] 
To Sir H. Goodere. 



s I R, 

AGreeably to my fortune, and thoughts, 
I was crawld this back way from Key- 
ston; through my broken casement at Bedford^ 
I saw, for my best dish at dinner, your Coach; 
I studied your gests, but when I knew where 
you were, I went out of this Town, in a doubt 
whether I should turn in to Wrest; and you 
know the wisdome of the Parliament is, to 
resolve ever in the Negative: Therefore it is 
likeliest I shall not come in there; yet, let me 
give you in passing, thus much account of my 
self: I thought to kisse my L[ord] Spencers 
hands, at one house, and have passed three. 
If you know nothing to the contrary, risen 
since I came from London, I am likely to have 
a room in my L. of Dov. train, into the Coun- 
trie; if I have, I do not ask, but use the leave 
of waiting upon you at home: There and ever 
elswhere, our blessed Saviour blesse you, and 
all yours in which number, I pray, account 
ever 

Your very thankjtdl servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 

To 



176 



Letters to several! 



[Ixix.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Cannot obey you, if you go to morrow to 
Parsons-green; your company, that place, 
and my promise are strong inducements, but 
an Ague flouts them all, of which I have had 
two such threatenings, that I provide against 
it by a little Physick. This is one fetter; but 
I have a pair: for I attend Sir Geo. Mores 
answer in a little businesse, of which I can 
have no account till his return, so I am 
fastened here, till after Sunday. As you are 
sure that I love you thorowly, so think this a 
good expressing of that, that I promise now, 
that I will certainly goe with you on Munday, 
in despite of these interruptions, and serve you 
with my company to the Bathe; which journie, 
it is time to hasten. But I pray think this 
promise so much worth, that it may deserve 
your comming this way on Munday, for I make 
it with that reservation. God send you 
Hawks and fortunes of a high pitch. 

Your honest affectionate 
J. Donne. 

To 



Persons of Honour. ^ ^77 

[Ixx.] 
To Sir T. R. 

SIR, 

I Have bespoke you a New-yea rs-glft, that 
is, a good New year, for I have offered 
your name with my soul heartily to God in my 
mornings best Sacrifice: If for custome you 
will doe a particular office in recompense, 
deliver this Letter to your Lady, now, or when 
the rage of the Mask is past. If you make 
any haste into the Country, I pray let me 
know it. I would kisse your hands before 
you goe, which I doe now, and continue 

Micham, the last of 1607. Your affectionate servant 

as I remember. and lover J. Donne. 

[Ixi.l 
To Sir Henry Goodere. 

Sir, 

I Speak to you before God, I am so much 
affected with yesterdaies accident, that I 
think I prophane it in that name. As men 
which judge Nativities, consider not single 
Starres, but the Aspects, the concurrence and 
posture of them; so in this, though no particu- 
lar 



178 



Letters to several! 



lar past arrest me, or divert me, yet all seems 
remarkable and enormous. God, which hath 
done this immediately without so much as a 
sickness, will also immediately without sup- 
plement of friends, infuse his Spirit of com- 
fort, where it is needed and deserved. I write 
this to you from the Spring Garden, whither I 
withdrew my self to think of this; and the 
Intensenesse of my thinking ends in this, that 
by my help Gods work should be Imperfected, 
if by any means I resisted the amasement. 



Your very true friend 
J. Donne. 



[Ixxii.] 
To my good friend G. H. 

S I R, 

THE little businesse which you left in my 
hands is now dispatched; if it have hung 
longer then you thought, it might serve for 
just excuse, that these small things make as 
many steps to their end, and need as many 
motions for the warrant, as much writing of 
the Clerks, as long expectation of a Seal, as 
greater. It comes now to you sealed, and with 
it as strong and assured seals of my service 
and love to you. If it be good enough for you. 

I 



Persons of Honour. 179 

I owe you a continuall tribute of Letters. 
But, Sir, even in Princes and Parents, and all 
States that have in them a naturall Sover- 
aignty, there is a sort of reciprocation, and as 
[?] descent to doe some offices due to them that 
serve them: which makes me look for Letters 
from you, because I have another as valuable a 
pawn therefore, as your friendship, which is 
your promise; lest by the Jailors fault this 
Letter stick long, I must tell you, that I writ 
and sent it 12 Decemb. 1600. 



12. Decemb. 1600. 



Your friend and servant and lover 
J. Donne. 



[Ixxiii.l 
To your self. 

SIR, 

I Send you here a Translation; but it is not 
onely to beleeve me, it is a great invention 
to have understood any piece of this Book, 
whether the gravity of the matter, or the 
Poeticall form, give it his inclination, and 
principium motus; you are his center, or his 
spheare, and to you as to his proper place he 
addresses himself. Besides that all my things, 

not 



i8o Letters to several! 

not onely by obligation, but by custome, know 
that that is the way they should goe. I spake 
of this to my L[ady] of Bedford, thinking then 
I had had a copy which I made long since, at 
Sea, but because I finde it not, I have done 
that again : when you finde it not unseasonable, 
let her see it; and if you can think it fit, that 
a thing that hath either wearied, or distasted 
you, should receive so much favour, put it 
amongst her papers: when you have a new 
stomach to it, I will provide you quickly a 
new Copy. 

At my Micham Your very true friend and servant 

Hospitall, Aug. lo. and lover J.Donne. 

[Ixxiv.] 
To the gallant Knight Sir Tho. Lucy. 

SIR, 

BEcause in your last Letter, I have an 
invitation to come to you, though I 
never thought my self so fallen from my in- 
terest, which, by your favour, I prescribe in. 
In you, and therefore when In the spring I 
hoped to have strength enough, to come Into 
those parts, upon another occasion, I always 
resolved to put my self into your presence too, 

yet 



Persons of Honour. i8i 

yet now I aske you more particularly how 
you dispose of your self; for though I have 
heard, that you purpose a journey to the 
Bath^ and from thence hither, yet I can hope, 
that my service at Lincolns Inne being ended 
for next Terme, I may have intermission 
enough to waite upon you at Polesworth, be- 
fore the season call you to Bath. I was no 
easie apprehender of the fear of your depart- 
ing from us; neither am I easie in the hope of 
seeing you intirely over suddenly. God loves 
your soul if he be loth to let it go inch-meale, 
and not by swallowings; and he loves it too, 
if he build it up again stone after stone; his 
will is not done except his way, and his 
leasure be observed. In my particular, I am 
sorry, if my ingenuity and candor in deliver- 
ing myself in those points, of which you speak 
to me, have defaced those impressions which 
were in you before : if my f reedome have occa- 
sioned your captivity, I am miserably sorry. 
I v/ent unprofitably and improvidently, to the 
utmost end of Truth, because I would go as 
farre as I could to meet Peace; if my going so 
far in declaring my self, brought you where 
you could not stop. But as I was as confident 
in your strength, as in mine own, so am I still, 

in 



iSz Letters to sever all 

in him, who strengthens all our infirmities and 
will, I doubt not, bring you and me together, 
in all those particulars, so as we shall not part 
in this world, nor the next. Sir, your own 
soul cannot be more zealous of your peace, 
then I am: and God, who loves that zeale in 
me, will not suffer you to suspect it. I am 
surprised with a necessity of writing now, in a 
minute; for I sent to Bedford house to informe 
my self of means to write, and your daughter 
sent me word, of a present messenger, and 
therefore the rest of this I shall make up in 
my prayers to our blessed Saviour, for all 
happinesses to you. 

Drury house the 22 oj Your poor servant in Chr. Jesus 
Decemb. 1607, J. Donne. 

[Ixxv.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

THis is a second Letter: the enclosed was 
written before. Now we are sure that 
Heidelberge is taken, and entred with extreme 
cruelties. Almost all the defendors forsook 
their stations; only Sir Ger[ald] Herbert main- 
tained his nobly, to the repulsing of the 

enemy 



Persons of Honour, 183 

enemy three times, but having ease in the 
other parts, 800 new fresh men were put upon 
his quarter, and after he had broke 4 Pikes, 
and done very well, he was shot dead in the 
place. Man\n\heivi was soon after besieged, 
and is still. Heydelth [Heidelberg] was lost the 
6 of this moneth; the K[ing] upon news of this, 
sent to the Spanish Ambassa[d]our, that the 
people were like to resent it, and therefore, if 
he doubted ought, he should have a Guard: 
but I do not see, that he seems to need it, in 
his own opinion neither in truth does he; the 
people are flat: or trust in God, and the Kings 
ways. Sir IIor[atio] Fere hath written to his 
wife, (as I am told) a Letter in the nature of 
a will, for the disposing of his estate and 
children, as though he did not account to see 
her any more, but yet Man[n]heim cannot be 
lost, but by storming. Your man stays, and 
our bell rings me into the Church; there Sir, 
I shall recommend you to Gods goodnesse, 
with 

24 Septemb. Your friend 

J. Donne. 



To 



184 



Letters to several! 



[Ixxvi.] 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Live so farre removed, that even the ill 
news of your great losse (which is ever 
swiftest and loudest) found me not till now; 
your letter speaks it not plain enough but I 
am so accustomed to the worst, that I am sure 
it is so in this. I am almost glad that I knew 
her so little: for I would have no more addi- 
tions to sorrow; if I should comfort you, it 
were an almcs acceptable in no other title, then 
when poor give to poor; for I am more needy 
of it then you. And I know you well pro- 
vided of Christian, and learned, and brave 
defences against all humane accidents. I will 
make my best haste after your messenger: 
and if my self and the place had not been ill 
provided of horses, I had been the messenger, 
for you have taught me by granting more to 
deny no request. 

Pyesford 3 a clock Your honest unprofitable friend 

just as yours came. J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour, 185 

[Ixxvii.] 
To Sir G. H. 

SIR 

I Cannot yet serve you with those books 
of which your Letter spake. In recom- 
pense I will tell you a story, which if I had 
had leasure to have told it you when it was 
fresh, which was upon Thursday last, might 
have had some grace for the rareness, and 
would have tried your love to me, how farre 
you would adventure to beleeve an improb- 
able thing for my sake who relates it. That 
day in the morning, there was some end 
made, by the E[arl] of Salisbury and others, 
who were Arbitrators in some differences 
between Her[t]ford and Mounte[a]gle. Her[t\- 
ford was ill satisfied in it, and declared him- 
self so farre as to say, he expected better 
usage in respect not only of his cause but of 
his expence and service in his Ambassage: to 
which Salisbury replied, that considered how 
things stood between his Majesty and Her[t]- 
ford house at the Kings enterance, the King 
had done him especiall favour in that employ- 
ment of honour and confidence, by declaring 
in so publique and great an act and testi- 
mony 



1 86 Letters to sever all 

mony, that he had no ill affections toward 
him. Her[t]ford answered, that he was then 
and ever an honest man to the King: and 
Salisbury said, he denied not that, but yet 
solemnly repeated his first words again. So 
that Her[t\ford seemed not to make answer, 
but pursuing his own word, said, that who- 
soever denied him to have been an honest 
man to the King, lyed. Salisbury asked him 
if he directed that upon him, Her[t]ford said, 
upon any who denied this. The earnestnes 
of both was such, as Salisbury accepted it to 
himself, and made protestation before the 
LL. [Lords] present, that he would do nothing 
else, till he had honorably put off that lye. 
Within an hour after, Salisbury sent him a 
direct challenge, by his servant ]Vr Knightley; 
Her[t\ford required only an hours leisure of 
consideration (it is said, it was onely to inform 
himself of the especiall danger, in dealing so 
with a Counsellor) but he returned his accep- 
tation: And all circumstances were so clearly 
handled between them, that St James was 
agreed for the place, and they were both 
come from their severall lodgings, and upon 
the way to have met, when they were inter- 
rupted by such as from the King were sent to 

have 



Persons of Honour. 187 

have care of it. So these two have escaped 
this great danger; but (by my troth) I fear 
earnestly that Mistresse Bolstrod will not 
escape that sicknesse in which she labours at 
this time. I sent this morning to aske of her 
passage of this night; and the return is, that 
she is as I left her yesternight, and then by 
the strength of her understanding, and voyce, 
(proportionally to her fashion, which was 
ever remisse) by the eavennesse and life of 
her pulse, and by her temper, I could allow her 
long life, and impute all her sicknesse to her 
minde. But the History of her sicknesse, 
makes me justly fear, that she will scarce last 
so long, as that you when you receive this 
letter, may do her any good office, in praying 
for her; for she hath not for many days re- 
ceived so much as a preserved Barber[r]y, 
but it returnes, and all accompanied with a 
Fever, the mother, and an extream ill spleen. 
Whiles t I write this Tuesday morning, from 
Bartlet house one brings me a pacquet to j'our 
Master: he is gone; and that Lady and all the 
company is from town. I thought I nnight be 
pardoned, if I thought my self your man for 
that service to open it, which I did, and for 
the Letters I will deliver them. What else you 

bid 



1 88 Letters to several! 

bid Foster do in his Letter, bid him do it there, 

for (so God help me) I know not what it is. 

I must end now, else the carrier will be gone. 

God be with you. 

Yours intirely. 

You know me without a name, and I know 
not how this Letter goes. 

[Ixxviii.j 
To Sir H. G. 

SIR, 

I Had destined all this Tuesday, for the 
Court, because it is both a Sermon day, 
and the first day of the Kings being here. 
Before I was to go forth, I had made up this 
inclosed pacquet for you, and then came this 
messenger with your pacquet, of which if you 
can remember the number, you cannot expect 
any account thereof from me, who have not 
half an hour left me before I go forth, and your 
messenger speakes of a necessity of returning 
homward before my returning home. If upon 
the delivery of them, or any other occasion, 
there intervene new subject of writing, I shall 
relieve my self upon Tuesday, if Tamworth 
carrier be in town. To the particulars of the 
Letter to my self, I will give this paper, and 

line 



Persons of Honour. 189 

line. Of my Lady Badford, I must say so 
much as must importune you to burn the 
Letter; for I would say nothing of her upon 
record, that should not testifie my thankful- 
nesse for all her graces. But upon this motion 
which I made to her by letter, and by S"" Tho. 
Roes assistance, if any scruple should arise in 
her, she was somewhat more startling, then I 
looked for from her: she had more suspicion 
of my calling, a better memory of my past life, 
then I had thought her nobility could have 
admitted: of all which, though I humbly 
thank God, I can make good use, as one that 
needs as many remembrances In that kinde, as 
not only friends but enemies can present, yet 
I am afraid, they proceed in her rather from 
some ill impression taken from D[octor] Burges, 
then that they grow in her self. But whoso- 
ever be the conduit, the water is the holy 
Ghosts, and in that acceptation I take it. For 
her other way of expressing her favour to me, 
I must say, it is not with that cheerfulnesse, 
as heretofore she hath delivered her self 
towards me. I am almost sorry, that an 
Elegy should have been able to move her to 
so much compassion heretofore, as to offer to 
pay my debts; and my greater wants now, and 

for 



ipo Letters to several I 

for so good a purpose, as to come disengaged 
into that profession, being plainly laid open 
to her, should work no farther but that she 
sent me 30 /. which in good faith she excused 
with that, which is in both parts true, that her 
present debts were burdensome, and that I 
could not doubt of her inclination, upon all 
future emergent occasions, to assist me. I 
confesse to you, her former fashion towards 
me, had given a better confidence; and this 
diminution in her makes me see, that I must 
use more friends, then I thought I should have 
needed. I would you could burn this letter, 
before you read it, at least do when you have 
read it. For, I am afraid out of a Contempla- 
tion of mine own unworthinesse, and fortune, 
that the example of this Lady, should work 
upon the Lady where you are: for though good- 
nesse be originally in her, and she do good, 
for the deeds sake, yet, perchance, she may 
think it a little wisdome, to make such measure 
of me, as they who know no better, do. Of 
any new treaty of a match with Spain^ I hear 
nothing. The warres in the Low countries, to 
judge by their present state, are very likely 
to go forward. No word of a Parliament, and 
I my self have heard words of the K[ing] as 

directly 



Persons of Honour. 191 

directly against any such purpose, as any can 
sound. I never heard word, till in your letter, 
of any stirres in Scotland, for that of the 
French K. which you aske, it hath this good 
ground, That in the Assembly there a propo- 
sition hath been made, and well entertained, 
that the K[ingl should be declared, to have 
full Jurisdiction in France; and no other per- 
son to have any. It hath much of the modell 
and frame of our Oath of Allegeance, but with 
some modification. It is true, it goes farther 
then that State hath drove in any publique 
declarations, but not farther than their Schools 
have drove often and constantly: the easinesse 
that it hath found in passing thus farre with- 
out opposition, puts (perchance unnecessarily) 
in me a doubt, that they are sure to choak it, 
at the Royall assent, and therefore oppose it 
not, by the way, to sweeten the conveyance 
of their other purposes. Sir, if I stay longer 
I shall lose the Text, at Court, therefore I kisse 
your hand, and rest 

Your very true servant 

J. Donne. 

We hear {but without second as yet) that 
Sir Rich[ard] Philips brother in France, hath 
taken the habit of a Capuchin. 

To 



192 Letters to sever all 

[Ixxix.] 
To Sir Thomas Lucy. 

SIR, 

THis first of Aprill I received yours of 
2 1 of Martii, which being two days after 
the ordinary Smithfield day, I could do no 
more, but seal this letter to be sent to you 
next Tuesday, because I foresee that I shall 
not then be in town. Whatsoever I should 
write now, of any passages of these days, 
would lose the verdure before the letter came 
to you, only give m^e leave to tell you that I 
need none of those excuses, which you have 
made to your self in my behalfe, for my not 
writing. For your son in law came to me, so 
near the time of his going away, as it had 
been impossible to have recovered him with a 
letter at so farre a distance, as he was lodged. 
And my L. Hunt, messenger received that 
answer, which, I hope, before this time, you 
know to be true, that I had sent the day before, 
by the infallible carrier of Smithfield. The 
Emperours death may somewhat shorten our 
way; for I discern now no reason of going to 
Vienna; but I beleeve it wil exted our busines; 
so that I promise my self no speedier return 

by 



Persons of Honour, 193 

by that. If I write no letters into England 
out of these parts, I cannot be without your 
pardon, if I write not to you, but if I write to 
any and leave you out, lay all the faults which 
you have ever pardoned in me, to my charge 
again. I foresee some reasons, which may 
make me forbeare; but no slacknesse of mine 
own, shall. Sir, if I have no more the com- 
modity of writing to you here in England, (as, 
we may be gon before next Tuesday) I tell 
you, in this departing from you, with the same 
truth and earnestnesse as I would be beleeved 
to speake in my last departing, and transmi- 
gration from the whole world, that I leave not 
behinde me a heart, better affected to you, nor 
more devoted to your service, then I carry 
with me. Almighty God blessc you, with 
such a reparation in your health, such an estab- 
lishment in your estate, such a comfort in your 
children, such a peace in your conscience, and 
such a true cheerfulnesse in your heart, as may 
be strong scales to you, of his eternall gracious 
purpose upon you. This morning I spend in 
surveying and emptying my Cabinet of Let- 
ters; and at the top of all I light upon this 
Letter lately received, which I was loth to 
bury. I chose to send it you, to mine own 

condemnation 



194 Letters to several! 

condemnation; because a man so busie as he 
is, descending to this expressing of himself in 
verse, I am inexcusable towards you, for dis- 
obeying a commandment of yours, of that 
kinde; but I relie upon the generall, that I am 
sure you are sure, that I never refuse any 
thing for lazinesse, nor morosity, and there- 
fore make some other excuse for me. You 
have been so long used to my hand that I 
stand not to excuse the hasty raggednesse of 
this Letter. The very ilnesse of the writing, 
is a good argument that I forced a time, in the 
fulnesse of businesse, to kisse your hand, and 
to present my thanks as for all your favours, 
and benefits, so principally for keeping me 
alive in the memory of the noblest Countesse, 
whose commandement, if it had been her 
^aps pleasure to have any thing said or done 
in her service, at Heydelherg, I should have 
been glad to have received. Sir, God blesse 
you, y spiritu principali confirmet te; and 

Your very true and affectionate servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 195 

[Ixxx.] 
To the honourable Knight Sr Henry Goodere. 

SIR, 

AS you are a great part of my businesse, 
when I come to London, so are you when 
I send. More then the office of a visitation 
brings this Letter to you now; for I remember 
that about this time you purposed a journey 
to fetch, or meet the Lad[y] Huntington. If 
you justly doubt any long absence, I pray send 
to my lodging my written Books: and if you 
may stay very long, I pray send that Letter 
in which I sent you certain heads which I pur- 
posed to enlarge, for I have them not in any 
other paper: and I may finde time in your 
absence to do it, because I know no stronger 
argument to move you to love me, but because 
you have done so, doe so still, to make my 
reason better, and I shall at last prescribe in 

you 

Yours, 
J. Donne. 

Micham Wednesday. 



To 



196 



Letters to several/ 



[Ixxxi.] 
To Sir H. G. at Polesworth. 

SIR, 

THis 25 I have your letter of 21, which I 
tell you so punctually, because by it, 
nor by any other, I doe not discern that you 
received my pacquet of Books; not that I 
looked for so quick a return of the Sermon, 
nor of my Cases of conscience, but that I for- 
get so absolutely what I write, and am so sure 
that I write confidently to you, that it is some 
pain to remain in any jealousie that any 
Letter is miscarried. That which I writ to 
you of my L. Treasur[er's] disposition to you, 
I had from M"" Har[ington]; and I understood 
it to be his desire to convey it through me. 
The last account which we have of my L. 
Donc[aster\ is, by Letters of the 2"" of this; by 
which also we saw, that the first Letters of his 
convalescence, were but propheticall; for he 
was let blood a second time, and is not strong 
enough yet to receive audience. Though I 
be not Dean of Pauls yet, my L[ord] of JVar- 
wick hath gone so low, as to command of me 
the office of being Master of my game, in our 
wood about him in Essex. I pray be you con- 
tent 



Persons of Honour. 197 

tent to be my officer too, the Steward of my 
services to all to whom you know them to be 
due in your walk, and continue ' your own 
assurance that I am 

Your affectionate servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



[Ixxxii.] 
To my worthy friend F. H. 

S I R, 

I Can scarce doe any more this week then 
send you word why I writ not last. I had 
then seposed a few dales for my preparation 
to the Communion of our B[lessed] Saviours 
body; and in that solitarinesse and arraign- 
ment of my self, digested some meditations 
of mine, and apparelled them (as I use) In the 
form of a Sermon: for since I have not yet 
utterly delivered my self from this intemper- 
ance of scribling (though I thank God my 
accesses are lesse and lesse vehement) I make 
account that to spend all my little stock of 
knowledge upon matter of delight, were the 
same error, as to spend a fortune upon Masks 
and Banqueting houses : I chose rather to 
build in this poor fashion, some Spittles, and 

Hospitals 



198 



Letters to severall 



Hospitals, where the poor and impotent sinner 
may finde some relief, or at least under- 
standing of his infirmity. And if they be too 
weak to serve posterity, yet for the present 
by contemplation of them, &c. 



[Ixxxiii.] 
To Sir H. G. 
SIR, 

I Have the honour of your Letter, which 
I am almost sorry to have received: some 
few dales before the receit thereof D[octor] 
Turner, who accompanied my L. Carow [Carey] 
to Sion to dinner, shewed me a Letter from 
you, from which I conceived good hopes that 
your businesses, being devolved into the hands 
of the Treasurer, had been in much more for- 
wardnesse, then by your Letter to me they 
appear to be. I beseech God establish them, 
and hasten them, and with them, or without 
them, as he sees most conducible to his pur- 
pose upon you, continue in you a relying 
upon him, and a satisfaction in his waies. I 
know not whether any Letter from your son, 
or any other report, may have given you any 
mention of me; he writ to me from the Comp- 
ter, that he was under a trifling arrest, and that 

3' 



Persons of Honour. 199 

3* and some little more would discharge him. 
I sent my man with that money, but bid him 
see it emploied for his discharge: he found 
more actions, and returned. Next day he 
writ to me that 8^ would discharge him, and 
that M'" Selden would lay down half. But 
M'' Selden and I speaking together, thought 
it the fittest way, to respite all, till, in a few 
daies, by his writing to you, we might be 
directed therein; and in the mean time, took 
order with the Keeper to accommodate him, 
and I bade my man Martin, as from himself, 
to serve his present want with some things. 
Since we told him, that we would attend a 
return of his Letter to you, I heard no more of 
him, but I hear he is out. Whosoever serves 
you with relations from this Town, I am sure 
prevents me of all I can say. The Palatinate 
is absolutely lost; for before this Letter come 
to you, we make account that Heydelberg and 
Frankindale is lost, and Mankeme [Mannheim] 
distressed, Mansfield came to Breda, and 
Gonzales to Brussels, with great losses on both 
sides, but equall. The P[rince] of Orange is 
but now come to Breda, and with him, all that 
he is able to make, even out of the Garrisons 
of their Towns. The ways of victuall to 

• Spinolaes 



200 Letters to several/ 

Spinolaes Army, are almost all precluded by 
him, and he likely to put upon the raising of 
Spinola, between whom and the Town, there 
are hotter disputes, then ever our times saw. 
The Secretary of the States here shewed me 
a Letter yesternight, that the Town spends 
6000 pound of powder a day, and hath spent 
since the siege 250"^ pounds. Argits Regi- 
ment and my L. Faux, are so diminished by 
commings away, as that both (I think) make 
not now in Muster above 600. ]VP Gage is re- 
turning to Rome, but of this Negotiation I dare 
say nothing by a Letter of adventure. The 
direction which his Ma^^ gave for Preachers, 
had scandalized many; therefore he descended 
to pursue them with certain reasons of his 
proceedings therein; and I had command- 
ment to publish them in a Sermon at the 
Crosse, to as great a Congregation as ever I 
saw together, where they received comfortable 
assurance of his Ma*'^^ constancy in Religion, 
and of his desire that" all men should be bred 
in the knowledge of such things, as might 
preserve them from the superstition of Rome. 
I presume it is but a little while before we shall 
see you here, but that little time is likely to 
produce many things greatly considerable. 

Present 



Persons of Honour, 201 

Present, I pray, my thankfull services to your 
good daughters. I can give them no better 
a room in my prayers, and wishes, then my 
poo re Constance hath, and they have that; so 
have you Sir, with 

J. Donne. 

[Ixxxiv.] 
To the worthiest Knight Sir Henry Goodere. 

SIR, 

OUr blessed Saviour, who abounds in 
power and goodnesse towards us all, 
blesse you, and your family, with blessings 
proportioned to his ends in you all, and blesse 
you with the testimony of a rectified con- 
science, of having discharged all the offices of 
a father, towards your discreet and worthy 
daughters, and blesse them with a satisfac- 
tion, and quiescence, and more, with a com- 
placency and a joy, in good ends, and ways 
towards them, ATnen. Your man brought 
me your Letter of the 8 of December this 21 of ' 
the same, to Chelsey, and gives me the large- 
nesse till friday to send a letter to Pauls house. 
There can scarce be any peece of that, or of 
those things whereof you require light from 

me 



202 Letters to sever all 

me, that is not come to your knowledge, by- 
some clearer way, between the time of your 
Letter, and this. Besides the report of my 
death hath thus much of truth in it, that 
though I be not dead, yet I am buried. 
Within a few weeks after I immured my self 
in this house, the infection strook into the 
town, into so many houses, as that it became 
ill manners to make any visits. Therefore I 
never went to Knoll, nor Hanworth, nor Kenton 
[Keyston\ nor to the Court, since the Court 
came into these quarters, nor am yet come to 
London; therefore I am little able to give you 
account of high stages. Perchance you look 
not so low, as our ordinary Gazetta, and that 
tells us, (with a second assurance) that the 
D[uke] of Brunswick, Christian, is dead of an 
Ague. My L[ord] of Dorset even upon the 
day, when he should have been installed with 
his six fellowes, fell sick at London; and at 
Court (which does not exalt all men) his Fever 
was exalted to the plague; but he is in good 
convalescence. Of the Navy I hear of no 
great lim[b] come back yet, but my L. of 
Essex; something of the disappointing of the 
designe they had, is imputed to some differ- 
ence, in point of command, betweem him and 

the 



Persons of Honour, 203 

the M^ of the Ordinance, my L. of Valencia, 
but as yet there is little manifested. Already 
is issued a Proclamation, that there be no dis- 
banding of the Souldiers, upon their landing, 
in what part soever, and that his Majesty hath 
present imployment for them. What the 
business at Haghe [Hague] hath been, I know 
nothing, but I hear, that their offer of pawn- 
ing of Jewells to a very very great value, to the 
States or private men, hath found no accept- 
ance, at least found no money. Occasionally 
I heard from the Haghe, tha^ the Queen having 
taken into her care, the promoving and ad- 
vancing of some particular mens businesses, 
by way of recommendations to the Duke, ex- 
pressed her self very royally, in your behalf. 
This I tell you not, as though you knew it not, 
but because I had the fortune to see it in 
a Letter of the simple Gentlewoman, from 
thence; by which name, if you know her not, I 
have omitted heretofore to tell you a good 
tale. They continue at Court, in the resolu- 
tion of the Queen pastorall; when Q[ueen\ Anne 
loved gamboils, you loved the Court; per- 
chance you may doubt whether you be a 
thorough Courtier, if you come not up to see 
this. The Queen a Shepperdesse; but I speak 

not 



204 Letters to several! 

not this, by way of counsail, to draw you up, 
it is not only Non Dominus, sed ego, but nee 
Deus nee ego, to call you hither, but upon fair 
appearances of usefull commings. M"" George 
Herbert is here at the receipt of your letter, and 
with his service to you, tells you that all of 
Uvedall house are well. I reserve not the 
mention of my Lady Huntington to the end of 
my Letter, as grains to make the gold weight, 
but as tincture to make the better gold, when 
you finde room to intrude so poor and imper- 
tinent a name, as mine is, in her presence. I 
beseech you, let her Lad[yship] know, that 
she hath sowed her favours towards me, in such 
a ground, that if I be grown better (as I hope 
I am) her favours are grown with me, and 
though they were great when she conferred 
them, yet, (if I mend every day) they increase 
in me every day, and therefore every day mul- 
tiply my thankfulnesse towards her Ladiship: 
say what you will (if you like not this expres- 
sion) that may make her Ladiship know, that 
I shall never let fall the memory, nor the just 
valuation of her noble favours to me, nor leave 
them unrequited in my Exchequer, which is, 
the blessings of God upon my prayers. If I 
should write another sheet, I should be able 

to 



Persons of Honour 205 

to serve your curiosity no more of Dukes nor 
LL. [Lords] nor Courts, and this half line 
serves to tell you, that I am truly 

Your poor friend and humble servant in Chr. Jes. 

J. Donne. 



[Ixxxv.] 
To my honoured friend G. G. Esquire. 

SIR, 

N Either your Letters, nor silence, needs 
excuse; your friendship is to me an 
abundant possession, though you remember 
me but twice in a year: He that could have 
two harvests in that time, might justly value 
his land at a high rate; but, Sir, as we doe 
not onely then thank our land, when we gather 
the fruit, but acknowledge that all the year 
she doth many motherly offices in preparing 
it: so is not friendship then onely to be es- 
teemed, when she is delivered of a Letter, or 
any other reall office, but in her continuall pro- 
pensnesse and inclination to do it. This hath 
made me easie in pardoning my long silences, 
and in promising my self your forgivenesse 
for not answering your Letter sooner. For 
my purpose of proceeding in the profession of 

the 



2o6 Letters to sever all 



the law, so farre as to a title you may be 
pleased to correct that imagination, whereso- 
ever you finde it. I ever thought the study 
of it my best entertainment, and pastime, but 
I have no ambition, nor designe upon the style. 
Of my Anniversaries, the fault that I acknowl- 
edge in my self, is to have descended to print 
any thing in verse, which though it have ex- 
cuse even in our times, by men who professe, 
and practise much gravitie, yet I confesse I 
wonder how^ I declined to it, and do not pardon 
my self. But for the other part of the imputa- 
tion of having said too much, my defece is, 
that my purpose was to say as well as I could: 
for since I never saw the Gentlewoman, I can- 
not be understood to have bound my self to 
have spoken just truths, but I would not be 
thought to have gone about to praise her, or 
any other in rime, except I took such a person, 
as might be capable of all that I could say. 
If any of those Ladies think that Mistris 
Drewry was not so, let that Lady make her 
self fit for all those praises in the book, and 
they shall be hers. Sir, this messenger m.akes 
so much haste that I cry you mercy for spend- 
ing any time of this letter in other imployment 
then thanking you for yours. I hope before 

Christmas 



Persons of Honour. 207 

Christmas to see England, and kisse your hand, 
which shall ever, (if it disdain not that office) 
hold all the keyes of the liberties and affection, 
and all the faculties of 

Paris the 14 of Your most affectionate servant, 

J prill, here, 161 2. 

J.D. 



[Ixxxvi.] 
To my honoured friend G. G. Esquire. 

SIR, 

I Should not only send you an account by 
my servant, but bring you an account often 
my self, (for our Letters are our selves and in 
them absent friends meet) how I do, but that 
two things make me forbear that writing: 
first, because it is not for my gravity, to write 
of feathers, and strawes, and in good faith, I 
am no rnore, considered in m.y body, or fortune. 
And then because whensoever I tell you how 
I doe, by a Letter, before that Letter comes to 
you, I shall be otherwdse, then when it left me. 
At this time, I humbly thank God, I am only 
not worse; for I should as soon look for Roses 
at this time of the year, as look for increase of 
strength. And if I be no worse all spring, 

then 



2o8 Letters to sever all 

then now, I am much better, for I make 
account that those Church services, which I 
would be very loth to decHne, will spend some- 
what; and, if I can gather so much as will bear 
my charges, recover so much strength at 
London^ as I shall spend at London, I shall not 
be loth to be left in that state wherein I am 
now, after that's done; But I do but discourse, 
I do not wish; life or health, or strength, (I 
thank God) enter not into my prayers for my 
self; for others they do; and amongst others, 
for your sick servant, for such a servant taken 
so young, and healed so long, is half a child 
to a master, and so truly I have observed that 
you have bred him with the care of a father. 
Our blessed Saviour look graciously upon him, 
and glorifie himself in him, by his way of 
restitution to health; And by his way of peace 
of conscience in 

Your very true friend and servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 209 

[Ixxxvii.] 

SIR, 

THis advantage you, and my other friends, 
have by my frequent Fevers, that I am 
so much the oftener at the gates of heaven, 
and this advantage by the soHtude and close 
imprisonment that they reduce me to after, 
that I am thereby the oftener at my prayers; 
in which, I shall never leave out your happi- 
nesse; and, I doubt not, but amongst his many 
other blessings, God will adde to you some 
one for my prayers. A man would almost be 
content to dye, (if there were no other benefit 
in death) to hear of so much sorrow, and so 
much good testimony from good men, as I, 
(God be blessed for it) did upon the report 
of my death. Yet, I perceive it went not 
through all; for, one writ unto me, that some 
(and he said of my friends) conceived, that 
I was not so ill, as I pretended, but withdrew 
my self, to save charges, and to live at ease, 
discharged of preaching. It is an unfriendly, 
and God knows, an ill grounded interpretation: 
for in these times of necessity, and multitudes 
of poor there is no possibility of saving to him 
that hath any tendernesse in him; and for 

affecting 



2IO Letters to sever all 

affecting my ease, I have been always more 
sorry, when I could not preach, then any 
could be, that they could not hear me. It 
hath been my desire, (and God may be pleased 
to grant it me) that I might die in the Pulpit; 
if not that, yet that I might take my death in 
the Pulpit, that is, die the sooner by occasion 
of my former labours. I thanke you, for keep- 
ing our George in [in] your memory. I hope 
God reserves it for so good a friend as you are, 
to send me the first good news of him. For 
the Diamond Lady, you may safely deliver 
Roper whatsoever belongs to me, and he will 
give you a discharge for the money. For my 
L[ord] Percy, we shall speake of it, when we 
meet at London; which, as I do not much hope 
before Christmas, so I do not much fear at 
beginning of Tearm; for I have intreated one 
of my fellowes to preach to my Lord Maior, 
at Pauls upon Christmas day, and reserved 
Candlemas day to my self for that service, 
about which time also will fall my Lent Ser- 
mon, except my Lord Chamberlaine beleeve 
me to be dead, and leave me out; for as long as 
I live, and am not speechlesse, I would not de- 
cline that service. I have better leasure to 
write, then you to read, yet I will not oppress 

you 



Persons of Honour, 211 

you with too much letter. God blesse you, 
and your sonne, as 

Your -poor friend and humble servant 
in Christ Jesus 
J. Donne. 

[Ixxxviii.] 
To the Lady G. 

Madam, 

I Am not come out of England, If I remain 
in the Noblest part of it, your minde; yet I 
confesse, it is too much diminution to call your 
minde any part of England^ or of this world, 
since every part even of your body deserves 
titles of higher dignity. No Prince would be 
loth to die, that were assured of so faire a 
tombe to preserve his memory: but I have 
a greater vantage then so; for since there is a 
Religion in friendship, and a death in absence, 
to make up an intire frame there must be a 
heaven too: and there can be no heaven so 
proportionall to that Religion, and that death, 
as your favour. And I am gladder that it is 
a heaven, then that It were a Court, or any 
other high place of this world, because I am 
likelier to have a room there then here; and 

better 



212 Letters to sever all 

better cheap. Madam, my best treasure is 
time; and my best imployment of that is to 
study good wishes for you, in which I am by 
continuall meditation so learned, that your 
own good Angell, when it would do you most 
good, might be content to come and take in- 
structions from 

Your humble and affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 

[Ixxxix.] 
To your selfe. 

S I R, 

THe first of this moneth I received a Letter 
from you; no Letter comes so late, but 
that it brings fresh newes hither. Though I 
presume M"" Pore [Pory], and since. Sir Rob. 
Rich came after the writing of that Letter, yet 
it was good newes to me, that you thought me 
worthy of so good a testimony. And you 
were subtile in the disguise: for you shut up 
your Letter, thus, Lond. 22. in our stile, but 
I am not so good a Cabalist, as to finde in what 
moneth it was written. But, Sir, in the offices 
of so spirituall a thing as friendship, so mo- 
mentary a thing as time, must have no con- 
sideration. I keep it therefore to read every 

day 



Persons of Honour. 213 

day, as newly written: to which vexation it 
must be subject, till you relieve it with an 
other. If I ought you not a great many 
thankes for every particular part of it, I should 
yet thanke you for the length; and love it, as 
my mistresses face, every line and feature, but 
best all together. All that I can do towards 
retribution, is, (as other bankrupts do in 
prison) to make means by Commissioners, 
that a great debt may be accepted by small 
summes weekly. And in that proportion I 
have paid my tribute to you, almost ever since 
I came; and shall still do so. You know that 
they say, those are the strongest, and the firm- 
est, and most precious things, which are com- 
posed of the most, and smallest parts. I will 
flatter my self therefore, that the number of 
my Letters may at last make a strong argu- 
ment of my desire to serve you, but because I 
remember, out of this Philosophy, that they 
should be little, as well as many, lest this Let- 
ter should not get into the building, it shall 
be no bigger; thus much addition will not 
much disfigure it, that it sweare to you that 
I am 

Your affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 

Sir 



214 Letters to sever all 

Sir, I cry you mercy for sealing your sisters 
letter, but I deliver you up my authority, and I 
remember you, that you have hers to open it 
again. You will the easilier forgive me, that I 
write no newes, when you observe by this trans- 
gression, that I live in a place which hath 
quenched in me even the remembrances of good 
manners. By naming her, I have made my 
postscript the worthyest place of my letter: and 
therefore I chuse that place to present my service 
to all the compa7iy at our lodging; in which house, 
if I cannot get room for a pallat, at my return, 
my comfort is, that I can ever hope to be so near 
them as the Spittle in the Savoy, where they 
receive Travellers. 



[xc] 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir 

Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

T Hough I have left my bed, I have not 
left my bed-side; I sit there still, and as 
a Prisoner discharged sits at the Prison doore, 
to beg Fees, so sit I here, to gather crummes. 
I have used this leisure, to put the meditations 
had in my sicknesse, into some such order, as 

may 



Persons of Honour. 215 

may minister some holy delight. They arise 
to so many sheetes (perchance 20.) as that 
without saying for that furniture of an Epistle, 
That my Friends importun'd me to Print them, 
I importune my Friends to receive them 
Printed. That, being in hand, through this 
long Trunke, that reaches from Saint Pauls, 
to Saint James, I whisper into your earre this 
question, whether there be any uncomlinesse, 
or unseasonablenesse, in presenting matter of 
Devotion, or Mortification, to that Prince, 
whom I pray God nothing may ever Mortifie, 
but Holinesse. If you allow my purposes in 
generall, I pray cast your eye upon the Title 
and the Epistle, and rectifie me in them : I sub- 
mit substance, and circumstance to you, and 
the poore Author of both. 

Your very humble and very thankjull 

Servant 
in Christ Jesus 

J. Donne. 



To 



2i6 Letters to sever all 

[xci.] 
To your selfe. 

S I R, 

AGE becomes nothing better then Friend- 
ship; therefore your Letters, which are 
ever good effects of friendship, deHght to be old 
before I receive them: for it is but a fortnight 
since those Letters which you sent by Captain 
Peter found me at Spa; presently upon the 
receit, I adventured by your leave to bestow 
the first minutes upon this Letter to your faire 
Noble Sister; And because I found no voice at 
Spa of any Messenger, I respited my Writing 
to you, till I came thus much nearer. Upon 
the way hither, another Letter from you over- 
tooke me, which by my L[ord] Chandos love 
to me for your sake, was sent after me to 
Ma[a]stricht: He came to Spa within two 
houres after I went away; which I tell you to 
let you see, that my Fortune hath still that 
spitefull constancy, to bring me near my de- 
sires, and Intercept me. If I should write to 
you any newes from this place, I should fore- 
stall mine owne Market, by telling you before 
hand that which must make me acceptable 
to you at my comming. I shall sneake into 

London 



Persons of Honour. 217 

London^ about the end of August. In my 
remotest distances I did not more need your 
Letters than I shall then. Therefore if you 
shall not be then in London^ I beseech you to 
think mee at Constantinople, and write one 
large Letter to be left at my Ladie Bartlets, my 
lodging; for I shall come in extreame darknesse 
and ignorance, except you give me light. If 
Sir John Brooke be within your reach, present 
my humble service and thankfulnesse to him.; 
if he be not, I am glad, that to my Conscience, 
which is a thousand witnesses, I have added 
you for one more, that I came as near as I 
could to doe it. I shall run so fast from this 
place, through Antwerpe, and some parts of 
Holland, that all that love which you could 
perchance be content to expresse by Letters 
if I lay still, may be more thriftily bestowed 
upon that one Letter, which Is by your favour, 
to meet me, and to welcome to London 

Your unworthy, but very 

true Friend, 

J. Donne. 



To 



21 8 Letters to several! 

[xcii.] 

Sir, 

IT is one ill aflfection of a desperate debtor, 
that he dares not come to an account, nor 
take knowledge how much he owes; this makes 
me that I dare not tell you how manie letters 
I have received from you since I came to this 
Towne; I had three the first by the Cooke, who 
brought none but yours, nor ever came to me, 
to let me know what became of the rest: the 
two other of the 7. and 8. of March, came in a 
letter which Sir //. Wotton writ to me from 
Arnyens; there is not a size of paper in the 
Palace, large enough to tell you how much I 
esteeme my selfe honoured in your remem- 
brances; nor strong enough to wrap up a heart 
so ful of good affections towards you, as mine 
Is. When any thing passes between Sir 
Thomas Roe and you, tell him I am not the 
lesse his Servant, for not saying so by often 
letters: for by my troth, I am that so much as 
he could desire I should be, when he began to 
love me. Sir Thomas Lucies businesse, and 
perchance sadnesse forbid me writing now. 
I have written to him (whilest I lived in dark- 
nesse, whether my Letters came to you or no) 

by 



Persons of Honour. 219 

by another way; and if my poo re Letters were 
any degree of service, I should doe it often, 
and rather be mine own Post then leave any 
thing undone, to which he would give such an 
interpretation, as that it were an Argument 
of my Devotion to him. For my purpose of 
proceeding in the profession of the Law, so far 
as to a Title, you may be pleased to correct 
that imagination where you finde it. I ever 
thought the study of it my best entertainment 
and pastime, but I have no ambition, nor de- 
sign upon the Stile. Of my Anniversaries the 
fault which I acknowledge in my selfe is to 
have descended to print any thing in Verse, 
which though it have excuse, even in our times, 
by example of men which one would thinke 
should as little have done it, as I; yet I con- 
fesse I wonder how 1 declined to it, and doe 
not pardon my self. But for the other part 
of the imputation, of having said so much, 
my defence is, that my purpose was to say as 
well as I could: for since I never saw the 
Gentlewoman, I cannot be understood to have 
bound my selfe to have spoken just Truth: 
but I would not be thought to have gone about 
to praise any bodie in rime, except I tooke such 
a Person, as might be capable of all that I 

could 



220 Letters to sever all 

could say. If any of those Ladies think that 
Mistris Drury was not so, let that Ladie make 
her selfe lit for all those praises in the Booke, 
and it shall be hers. Nothing is farther from 
colour or ground of Truth, then that which 
you write of Sir Robert Druries going to Masse. 
No man of our Nation hath been more forward 
to apply himselfe to the Church of the Religion 
where he hath come, nor to relieve their wants, 
where that Demonstration hath beene need- 
full. I know not yet whether Sir John Brookes 
purpose of being very shortly here, be not a 
just reason to make me forbear writing to him. 
I am sure that I would fainest do that in 
writing or abstaining which should be most 
acceptable to him. It were in vain to put into 
this letter any relation of the Magnificence 
which have been here at publication of these 
marriages; for at this time there come into 
England so many Frenchmen, as I am sure you 
shall heare all at least. If they speak not of 
above eight hundred horse well caparosond, 
you may believe it: and you may believe, 
that no Court in Christendome had beene 
able to have appeared so brave in that kinde. 
But if they tell you of any other stuffe then 
Copper, or any other exercise of amies then 

running 



Persons of Honour, 221 

running at the Quintain, and the Ring, you 
may be bold to say Pardone moy. Sir, this 
messenger makes so much haste that I cry 
you mercy for spending any time of this Let- 
ter, in other imployment, then thanking you 
for yours, and promising you more before my 
remove from hence. I pray venture no Letter 
to me by any other way then M. John Bruer 
[Brewer] at the Queens Armes a Mercer in 
Cheapside, who is always like to know where 
we are; And make me by loving me still, 
worthy to be 

Your friend and servant 
J. Donne. 

[xciii.] 

To my Honoured friend Af George 
Gerrard. 

Sir, 

I Cannot chuse but make it a presage that 
I shall have no good fortune in England, 
that I mist the honour of enjoying that com- 
pany, which you brought to town. But I be- 
seech you let my ill luck determine in that 
ominousnesse: for if my not comming should 
be by her or you interpreted for a negligence 

or 



222 Letters to sever all 

or coldnesse in me, I were already in actual 
and present affliction. For that Ecclesiasti- 
call Lady of whom you write, since I presume 
it is a work of darknesse that you go about, we 
will deferre it for winter. Perchance the cold 
weather, may be as good physique to you, as 
she, for quenching you. I have changed my 
purpose of going to Windsor, and will go 
directly into the Wight: which I tell you not 
as a concerning thing, but in obedience to your 
commandment, as one poor testimony that I 
am 

Your affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 

[xclv.] 

To my very worthy friend Mr George 

Garrard. 

Sir, 

THis is the fourth of this moneth, and I 
receive your Pacquet so late, that I have 
scarce waking time enough to tell you so, or 
to write any thing but dreams. I have both 
your Letters, mother and daughter, and am 
gladder of them, then if I had the mother and 
daughter here in our neighbourhood; you know 

I 



Persons of Honour, 223 

I mean Sir H. Gooderes parties. Sir, you do 
me double honour when my name passes 
through you to that Noble Lady in whose 
presence you are. It is a better end and a 
better way to that then I am worth. I can 
give you nothing in recompense of that favour, 
but good counsell: which is to speake sparingly 
of any ability in me, lest you indanger your 
own reputation, by overvaluing me. If I shall 
at any time take courage by your Letter, to 
expresse my meditations of that Lady in writ- 
ing, I shall scarce think lesse time to be due to 
that employment, then to be all my life in mak- 
ing those verses, and so take them with me 
and sing them amongst her fellow Angels in 
Heaven. I should be loath that in any thing 
of mine, composed of her, she should not ap- 
pear much better then some of those of whom 
I have written. And yet I cannot hope for 
better expressings then I have given of them. 
So you see how much I should wrong her, by 
making her but equall to others. I would I 
could be beleeved, when I say that all that is 
written of them, is but prophecy of her. I 
must use your favour in getting her pardon, 
for having brought her into so narrow, and 
and low-roost a room as my consideration, or 

for 



224 Letters to sever all 

for adventuring to give any estimation of her, 
and when I see how much she can pardon, I 
shall the better discern how far farther I may 
dare to offend in that kinde. My noble neigh- 
bour is well, and makes me the steward of his 
service to you. Before this Letter reaches 
you, I presume you will bee gathering towards 
these parts, and then all newes will meet you 
so fast, as that out of your abundance you will 
impart some to 

Your afectionate friend to 

serve you 
J. Donne. 

[xcv.] 
To your selje. 

Sir, 

A LI your other Letters, which came to me 
by more hazardous waies, had therefore 
much merit in them; but for your Letter by 
M. Pory, it was but a little degree of favour, 
because the messenger was so obvious, and so 
certain, that you could not chuse but write by 
him. But since he brought me as much Letter 
as all the rest, I must accept that, as well as 
the rest. By this time, M. Garret, when you 

know 



Persons of Honour, 225 

know in your conscience that you have sent no 
Letter, you beginne to look upon the super- 
scription, and doubt that you have broken 
up some other bodies Letter: but whose so 
ever it were it must speak the same language, 
for I have heard from no body. Sir, if there 
be a Proclamation in England against writing 
to me, yet since it is thereby become a matter 
of State, you might have told M. Pory so. 
And you might have told him, what became 
of Sir Tho. Lucies Letter, in my first pacquet, 
(for any Letter to him makes any paper a 
pacquet, and any peece of single money a 
Medall) and what became of my Lady Kings- 
mels in my second, and of hers in my third, 
whom I will not name to you in hope that it is 
perished, and you lost the honour of giving 
it. Sir, mine own desire of being your servant, 
hath sealed me a Patent of that place during 
my life, and therefore it shall not be in the 
power of your forbidding, (to which your stiffe 
silence amounts) to make me leave being 

Your very affectionate servant 
J. Donne, 



To 



226 Letters to several! 

[xcvi.] 
To my Honoured friend M. George Garrat. 

S I R, 

I Would I were so good an Alchlmist to per- 
swade you that all the vertue of the best 
affections, that one could expresse in a sheet, 
were in this ragge of paper. It becomes my 
fortune to deale thus in single money; and I 
may hit better with this hail-shot of little 
Letters (because they may come thick) then 
with great bullets; and trouble my friends 
lesse. I confesse it were not long enough if it 
came to present my thankes for all the favours 
you have done me; but since it comes to begge 
more, perchance it may be long enough, be- 
cause I know not how short you will be with 
an absent friend. If you will but write that 
you give me leave to keep that name still, it 
shall be the gold of your Letter: and for allay, 
put in as much newes as you will. We are in 
a place where scarce any money appeares, but 
base: as, I confesse, all matters of Letters is in 
respect of the testimonies of friendship; but 
obey the corruption of this place, and fill your 
Letters with worse stuffe then your own. 
Present my service to all those Gentlemen 

whom 



Persons of Honour, 227 

whom I had the honour to serve at our lodg- 
ing; I cannot ilie an higher pitch, then to say, 
that I am so much their servants as you can 
say I am. At the Queens armes in Cheapside, 
which is a Mercers, you may hear of one 
M. John Brewer, who will convey any Letter 
directed to me at Sir Rob. Druries at Amiens, 
though he know not me: and I should be glad 
to hear that this first that I sent into England 
had the fortune to finde you. 

Yours 

J. Donne. 

[xcvii.] 
To your fair sister. 

Madam, 

THe dignity, and the good fortune due to 
your Letter, hath preserved a pacquet 
so well, that through France and Germany it is 
at last come to me at Spa. This good experi- 
ence makes me in despite of contrary appear- 
ances, hope that I shall finde some messenger 
for this before I remove, though it be but two 
dayes. For even Miracles are but little and 
slight things, when any thing which either 
concernes your worthinesse is in considera- 
tion 



228 Letters to sever all 

tion or my valuation of it. If I faile In this 
hope of a messenger, I shall not grudge to do 
my self this service of bringing it into England, 
that you may hear me say there, that I have 
thus much profited by the honour of your con- 
versation, and Contemplation, that I am, 
as your vertues are, every where equall; and 
that that which I shall say then at London, I 
thought and subscribed at S-pa, which is, that 
I will never be any thing else, then 

Your very humble and affectionate servant 
J. Donne. 

[xcviii.] 

To the Honourable Knight Sir 

Henry Goodere. 

S I R, 

BEcause to remain In this sort guilty In 
your Lordships opinion doth not onely 
defeat all my future indevours, but lay a 
heavyer burden upon me, of which I am more 
sensible, which is ingratitude towards your 
Lordship, by whose favours I have been 
formerly so much bound; I hope your Lordship 
will pardon me this care and diligence which I 
use to rectifie my self towards you. To which 

purpose 



Persons of Honour. 229 

purpose I humbly beseech your Lordship, to 
admit thus much into your consideration, 
that I neither hunted after this businesse at 
first, but apprehended it as it was presented to 
me, and might perchance have fallen into 
worse hands, nor proceeded otherwise therein, 
then to my poor discretion at that time seemed 
lawfuU and requisite and necessary for my 
reputation, who held my selfe bound to be 
able to give satisfaction to any who should 
doubt of the case. Of all which, if your Lord- 
ship were returned to your former favourable 
opinions of me, you might be pleased to make 
this some argument, that after his Majesty 
had shewed his inclination to the first motion 
made in my behalf, I was not earnest to urge 
and solicit that advantage of priority, but as 
became me, contented my self to joyne with 
him who had made a later petition therein: 
and as soon as I understood how it was opposed 
or distasted, I threw it down at your Lordships 
feet, and abandoned it to your pleasure. 
Which it is necessary for me to say at this 
time, lest, if he who was interessed with me in 
that businesse shall have proceeded any far- 
ther therein since that time, your Lordship 
might conceive new suspicions of me. That 

your 



230 Letters to sever all 

your Lordships name was at all used therein, 
or that any words of mine occasioned such an 
errour in my servant, I am so sorry as nothing 
but a conscience of a true guiltinesse of having 
performed an injury to your Lordship (which 
can never fall upon me) could affect me more. 
But I, who to the measure of my compre- 
hension, have ever understood your Lordships 
nobility and evenness, cannot fear that your 
Lordship will punish an oversight, like a crime: 
which should be effected upon me, if your 
Lordship should continue your disfavour 
towards me, since no penalty could come so 
burdenous to my minde and to my fortune as 
that. And since the repose of both consists in 
your Lordships favour, I humbly intreat to be 
restored to your favour, giving your Lordship 
my faith in pawn that I wil be as wary of for- 
feting it by any second occasion, as I am sorry 
for this. 

Yours J. D. 



To 



Persons of Honour, 231 

[xcix.] 

To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert 
Karre. 

S I R, 

I Had rather like the first best; not onely 
because it is cleanlier, but because it re- 
flects least upon the other party, which, in all 
jest and earnest, in this affair, I wish avoided. 
If my Muse were onely out of fashion, and 
but wounded and maimed like Free-will in the 
Roman Church, I should adventure to put her 
to an Epithalamion. But since she is dead, 
like Free-will in our Church, I have not so 
much Muse left as to lament her losse. Per- 
chance this businesse may produce occasions, 
wherein I may expresse my opinion of it, in a 
more serious manner. Which I speake neither 
upon any apparent conjecture, nor upon any 
overvaluing of my abilities, but out of a gen- 
erall readinesse and alacrity to be serviceable 
and gratefull in any kinde. In both which 
poor vertues of mine, none can pretend a more 
primary interest, then you may, in 

Your humble and affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 

To 



232 Letters to sever all 

[c] 

To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert Karre Gentleman 
of his Highnesses Bedchamber. 

S I R, 

I Have often sinned towards you, with a 
presumption of being pardoned, but now 
I do It, without hope, and without daring to 
Intreat you to pardon the fault. In which 
there are thus many degrees of Importunity. 
That I must begge of you to christen a child, 
which Is but a daughter, and In which you 
must be content to be associated with Ladles 
of our own alliance, but good women, and all 
this upon Thursday next In the afternoon. 
Sir, I have so many and so Indeleble Impres- 
sions of your favour to me, as they might serve 
to spread over all my poor race. But since 
I see that I stand like a tree, which once a year 
beares, though no fruit, yet this Mast of 
children, and so am sure, that one year or 
other I should afflict you with this request, 
I had rather be presently under the obliga- 
tions and the thankfulnesse towards you, then 
meditate such a trouble to you against another 
year. I was desirous this paper might kisse 
your hands as soon as you came, that If any 

other 



Persons of Honour, 233 

other diversions made this inconvenient to 
you, I might have an other exercise of your 
favour, by knowing so much from you, who in 
every act of yours make me more and more 



17 Aprill. 



Your humble and thankfull servant 
J. Donne. 



[ci.] 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir 
Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

PErchance others may have told you, that 
I am relapsed into my Fever; but that 
which I must intreat you to condole with me, 
is, that I am relapsed into good degrees of 
health; your cause of sorrow for that, is, that 
you are likely to be the more troubled with 
such an impertlnencie, as I am; and mine is, 
that I am fallen from fair hopes of ending all; 
yet I have scaped no better cheap, then that 
I have paid death one of my Children for my 
Ransome. Because I loved it well, I make 
account that I dignifie the memorie of it, by 
mentioning of it to you, else I should not be 
so homely. Impute this brevitie of writing 

to 



234 Letters to sever all 

to you upon no Subject to my sicknesse, in 
which men use to talke idly: but my profes- 
sion of desiring to bee retained in your mem- 
orie, impute to your owne Vertues, which have 
wrought so much upon 

Your humble servant 
John Donne. 

[cii.] 
To the Honourable Knight, Sir Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

I Make account that it is a day of great 
distribution of Honours at Court: I would 
not therefore lose my part, and increase 
therein; since every Letter admitted by you 
from me, is a new stone in my best building, 
which is, my roome in your service: so much 
you adde to me, everie time you give me leave 
thus to kisse your hands. But, Sir, everie 
addition preimagins a beeing, and the time of 
my beeing and Creation is not yet come: 
which I am sure you will advance; because 
else I am no competent Subject of your 
favours, and additions. I know, by your for- 
bearing to tell mee so, that my L[ord] hath had 
no commoditie to move the K[ing] and if this 

Paper 



Persons of Honour. 23^ 

Paper speake one word of difference, or im- 
patience in my name, by my troth it lies. 
Onely give it leave to tell you, that that L. 
whom perchance the K. may bee pleased to 
heare in it, is an old and momentanie man, 
and it may be late labouring for his assistance, 
next Winter. Besides, since it may bee possi- 
ble that the Master of the Rolles may a little 
resent this suite, there could be no fitter time, 
then now, to make him easie, as things stand 
with him at this time. If you stay in Towne 
this night, and no longer, I beseech you afford 
me a few of your late Minutes at your own 
lodging, where I will wait upon you according 
to any directions, which by this Gent, or 
otherwise I shall receive from you. 

Your humble servant 
John Donne. 



[Clll.J 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir 
Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

F I would calumniate, I could say no ill of 
that Gentleman: I know not whether my 
L[ord] or my selfe tooke the first apprehension 

of 



I 



236 



Letters to several! 



of it; but I remember that very soone wee con- 
curred in a good opinion of him ; thereupon for 
justifying our owne forwardnesse, wee ob- 
served him more th[o]roughly, and found all the 
way good reason to ratifie our first estimation 
of him. This gave my L. occasion to send 
him abroade in his Service after: how hee satis- 
fied him in that imployment, indeed I know 
not. But, that I disguise nothing, I remem- 
ber my L. told mee sometimes in his absence, 
that hee had not Account from him of some 
things, which hee had deposed in him. And 
at his entering into his Coach, at. his last 
going, I asked my L. Goes not the gentleman 
with you.f* and hee told mee with some cold- 
nesse no. So that if you bee not pressed to a 
Resolution, you may bee pleased to forbeare 
a few dayes, till I may occasionally discerne, 
whether hee have demerited or sunke in my 
L. opinion: And then you shall have another 
Character of him from 

25. JuHi. 

Your very humble and thankfull 
Servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 237 

[civ.] 
To the Honourable Knight, Sir Robert Karre. 

SIR, 

THE same houre that I received the 
honour of your commandments, by your 
letter left at my poore house, I put my selfe 
upon the way hither. So that I am here in the 
habite of a Traveller, and (suitable to the rest 
of my unworthinesses) unfit for great Pres- 
ences, Therefore, I abstain from waiting 
upon you presently; besides that in this ab- 
stinence, (except I misinterpret the last words 
of your letter to my advantage) I obey your 
directions, in sending before I come to you. 
Howsoever, Sir, I am intirely at your dis- 
posing, if you will be pleased to adde this 
favour to the rest, that I may understand, 
wherein you will use your Authoritie and 
Power, which you have over 

Your poore and humble servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



238 



Letters to several! 



[cv.] 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir Robert Karre. 

SIR, 

THIs is but a Postscript to the last Letter, 
and it is onely to tell you, that it was 
an impertinent jealousie that I conceived of 
that Gentlemans absence from my L[ord] for 
he gives that full Testimonie of him that he 
never discerned any kinde of unfitnesse in him 
for any imployment, except too much good- 
nesse; and Conscientiousnesse may sometimes 
make him somewhat lesse fit for some kindes 
of businesse, then a man of a looser raine. 
And this is all, that I conceive to have been in 
the commandment wherewith you honoured 

2. Aug. 1622. Your very humble and thankjull 

servant in Christ Jesus 
J. Donne: 

[cvi.] 

To my Honoured Friend, Master 

George Gherard. 

S I R, 

YOur Letter was the more welcome to mee, 
because it brought your commandment 
with it, of sending you perfumes: for it is a 

Service 



Persons of Honour. 239 

Service somewhat like a Sacrifice. But yet 
your commandment surprised me, when 
neither I had enough to send, nor had means 
to recover more; that Ladie being out of 
Towne which gave them me. But Sir, if I 
had 1 0000000. I could send you no more 
then I doe; for I send all. If any good occa- 
sion present it selfe to you, to send to my 
L[ord] Cliford, spare my name a roome, there 
where you offer him most of your Service. I 
dare contend with you, that you cannot exceed 
mee, in desiring to serve him. It is a better 
office from me to you, that I goe to bed, then 
that I write a longer letter. For if I doe 
mine eyes a little more injurie, I shall lose the 
honour of seeing you at Michaelmas; for by 
my troth I am almost blinde: you may be con- 
tent to beleeve that I am always disposed to 
your service, without exception of any time, 
since just at midnight, when it is both day, 
and night, and neither, I tell you that I am • 

Your affectipnate friend and servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



240 Letters to sever all 



evil. 



To my very much honoured friend George 
Garrard Esquire at Sion. 

Sir, 

I Know not which of us wonne It by the 
hand, in the last charge of Letters. If 
you wonne, you wonne nothing, because I am 
nothing, or whatsoever I am, you wonne 
nothing, because I was all yours before. I 
doubt not but I were better delivered of 
dangers of relapses, if I were at London; but 
the very going would indanger me. Upon 
which true debility, I was forced to excuse my 
selfe to my Lord Chamberlaine, from whom I 
had a Letter of command to have Preached 
the fifth of November Sermon to the King. A 
service which I would not have declined, if I 
could have conceived any hope of standing it. 
I beseech you intreat my Lord Percy in my 
behalfe, that he will be pleased to name George 
to my L[ord] Carli[s\le, and to wonder, if not 
to inquire, where he is. The world is dis- 
posed to charge my Lords honour, and to 
charge my naturall affection with neglecting 
him, and, God knowes, I know not which way 
to turn towards him; nor upon any message 

of 



Persons of Honour. 241 

of mine, when I send to kisse my Lords hands, 
doth my Lord make any kinde of mention of 
him. For the Diamond Lady, when time 
serves, I pray look to it; for I would fain be 
discharged of it. And for the rest, let them 
be but remembered how long it hath been in 
my hands, and then leave it to their discre- 
tion. If they incline to any thing, I should 
chuse shirt Holland^ rather under then above 
4 s. Our blessed Saviour multiply his bless- 
ings upon that noble family where you are, 
and your self, and your sonne; as upon all them 
that are derived from 

Your poor friend and servant 
J. Donne. 

[cviii.] 

To my very much respected friend Mr. 

George Garrard. 

Sir, ' 

I Thank you for expressing your love to me, 
by this diligence; I know you can dis- 
tinguish between the voyces of my love, and of 
my necessity, if any thing in my Letters sound 
like an importunity. Besides, I will adde thus 
out of counsell to you, that you can do nothing 

so 



242. Letters to several! 

so thriftily as to keep in your purpose the pay- 
ment of the rest of this years rent, (though at 
your conveniency) for Sir E. H]^s] curiosity be- 
ing so served at first, I shall be no farther cause, 
but that the rest be related, and you in as good 
possession of his love, and to as good use, as 
your love deserves of him. You mocke us 
when you aske news from hence. All is 
created there, or relates thither where you 
are. For that book which you command me 
to send, I held it but half an hour: which 
served me to read those few leafes, which were 
directed upon some few lines of my book. 
If you come to town quickly, you may get a 
fair widow: for M"^ Brown is fallen to that 
state by death of her husband. No man de- 
sires your comming more, nor shall be readier 
to serve you, then 

Your affectionate friend and servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 1j\'^ 

[cix.] 

To my Honoured friend Mr George Gherard, 
over against Salisbury house. 

Sir, 

I Do not make account that I am come to 
London, when I get within the wall: that 
which makes it London is the meeting of 
friends. I cannot therefore otherwise bid 
my self welcome to London, then by seeking 
of you, which both Sir H. Goodere and I do, 
with so much diligence, as that this messenger 
comes two dayes before to intreat you from us 
both, to reserve your self upon Saterday: so 
that I may, at our coming to London that 
night, understand at my house where I may 
send you word of our supping place that night, 
and have the honour of your company. So 
you lay more obligations upon 

Your poor unprofitable servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



244 Letters to several/ 



Lcx.J 

To the very much Honoured friend George 
Garret Esquire. 

S I R, 

WHen we thinke of a friend, we do not 
count that a lost thought, though 
that friend never knew of it. If we write to 
a friend, we must not call it a lost Letter, 
though it never finde him to whom it was 
addressed: for we owe our selves that office, 
to be mindefuU of our friends. In payment 
of that debt, I send out this Letter, as a Senti- 
nell Perdue; if it finde you, it comes to tell you, 
that I was possessed with a Fever, so late in 
the year, that I am afraid I shall not recover 
confidence to come to London till the spring 
be a little advanced. Because you did our 
poor family the favour to mention our 
George in your Letters to Spain, with some 
eamestnesse, I should wonder if you never 
had any thing from thence concerning him; 
he having been now, divers moneths, in Spaine. 
If you be in London and the Lady of the Jewell 
there too, at your conveniency informe me 
what is looked for at my hands, in that busi- 
nesse; for I would be loath to leave any thing 

in 



Persons of Honour. 245 

in my house when I die that were not abso- 
lutely mine own. I have a servant, Roper, at 
Pauls house, who will receive your command- 
ments, at all times. God blesse you and your 
Sonne, with the same blessings which I begge 
for the children, and for the person of 

Your poor friend and humble 

servant in Chr. Jes. 
J. Donne. 



To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert 

Karre, Gentleman of his Highnesses 

Bed-chamber. 

S I R, 

I Am come to that tendernesse of conscience, 
that I need a pardon for meaning to come 
to Newmarket in this weather. If I had come 
I m.ust have asked you many reall pardons, for 
the many importunities that I should have 
used towards you. But since I have divers 
errands thither, (except I belie my self in that 
phrase, since it is all one errand to promove 
mine own business, and to receive your com- 
mands) I shall give you but a short respit, 
since I shall follow this paper within two dayes. 

And 



246 



Letters to several! 



And (that I accuse my self, no farther then I 
am guilty) the principall reason of my break- 
ing the appointment of waiting upon M. 
Rawlins^ was, that I understood the King 
was from Newmarket; and for comming thither 
in the Kings absence, I never heard of excuse; 
except when Butler sends a desperate Patient 
in a Consumption thither for good aire, which 
is an ill errand now. Besides that I could not 
well come till now, (for there are very few 
dayes past, since I took Orders) there can be 
no losse in my absence except when I come; 
my Lord should have thereby the lesse lati- 
tude, to procure the Kings Letters to Cam- 
bridge. I beseech you therefore, take some 
occasion to -refresh that businesse to his Lord- 
ship, by presenting my name, and purpose of 
comming very shortly: and be content to re- 
ceive me, who have been ever your servant, 
to the addition of 

Your poor Chaplaine 
27 January. 

J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 247 

[cxii.] 

To the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount 
of Rochester. 

My most Honourable good Lord, 

AFter I was grown to be your Lordships, 
by all the titles that I could thinke upon, 
it hath pleased your Lordship to make another 
title to me, by buying me. You may have 
many better bargaines in your purchases, but 
never a better title then to me, nor any thing 
which you may call yours more absolutely and 
intirely. If therefore I appeare before your 
Lordship sometimes in these Letters of thank- 
fulnesse, it may be an excusable boldnesse, 
because they are part of your evidences by 
which you hold me. I know there may be de- 
grees of importunity even in thankfulnesse: 
but your Lordship is got above the danger of 
suffering that from me, or my Letters, both 
because my thankfulnesse cannot reach to the 
benefits already received, and because the 
favour of receiving my Letters is a new bene- 
fit. And since good Divines have made this 
argument against deniers of the Resurrection, 
that it is easier for God to recollect the Prin- 
ciples, and Elements of our bodies, howsoever 

they 



248 



Letters to several! 



they be scattered, then it was at first to create 
them of nothing, I cannot doubt, but that any 
distractions or diversions in the ways of my 
hopes, will be easier to your Lordship to re- 
unite, then it was to create them. Especially 
since you are already so near perfecting them, 
that if it agreed with your Lordships purposes, 
I should never wish other station, then such 
as might make me still, and onely 

Your Lordships 

Most huvible and devoted servant 

J. Donne. 

[cxiii.j 

To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert 
Karre. 

Sir, 

LEst you should think your selfe too much 
beholding to your fortune, and so relie 
too much upon her hereafter, I am bold to tell 
you, that it is not onely your good fortune that 
hath preserved you from the importunity of 
my visits all this time. For my ill fortune, 
which is stronger then any mans good fortune 
hath concurred in the plot to keep us asunder, 
by infecting one in my house with the 

Measels 



Perso7is of Honour. 249 

Measels. But all that is so safely over- 
worne, that I dare, not onely desire to put my 
selfe into your presence, but by your media- 
tion, a little farther. For, esteeming my selfe, 
by so good a title as my Lords own words, to 
be under his providence, and care of my for- 
tune, I make it the best part of my studies how 
I might ease his Lordship by finding out some- 
thing for my selfe. Which, because I thinke 
I have done as though I had done him a ser- 
vice therein, I adventure to desire to speake 
with him, which I beseech you to advance, in 
addition to your many favours and benefits 
to me. And if you have occasion to send any 
of your servants to this town, to give me notice 
what times are fittest for me to waite, to injoy 
your favour herein. My businesse is of that 
nature, that losse of time may make it much 
more difficult, and may give courage to the ill 
fortune of 

Your humble servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



250 Letters to sever all 

[cxiv.] 
'10 your selfe. 

S I R, 

I Make shift to think that I promised you 
this book of French Satyrs. If I did not, 
yet it may have the grace of acceptation, both 
as it is a very forward and early fruit, since it 
comes before it was looked for, and as it comes 
from a good root, which is an importune desire 
to serve you. Which since I saw from the 
beginning, that I should never do in any great 
thing, it is time to begin to try now, whether 
by often doing little services, I can come to- 
wards any equivalence. For, except I can 
make a rule of naturall philosophy, serve also 
in morall offices, that as the strongest bodies 
are made of the smallest particles, so the 
strongest friendships may be made of often 
iterating small officiousnesses, I feel I can be 
good for nothing. Except you know reason to 
the contrary, I pray deliver this Letter accord- 
ing to the addresse. It hath no businesse 
nor importunity; but as by our Law, a man 
may be Felo de se, if he kill himself, so I think 
a man may be Fur de se, if he steale himselfe 
out of the memory of them, which are content 

to 



Persons of Honour, 251 

to harbour him. And now I begin to be loath 
to be lost, vsince I have afforded my selfe some 
valuation and price, ever since I received the 
stampe and impression of being 

Your very humble and affectionate servant 

J. Donne. 

[cxv.j 

To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert Karre, 
Gentleman of his Highnesses Bed chamber. 

Sir, 

I Have always your leave to use my liberty, 
but now I must use my bondage. Which 
Is my necessity of obeying a precontract laid 
upon me. I go to morrow to Camherzuell a 
mile beyond Southwark. But from this town 
goes with me my brother Sir Tho. Grimes and 
his Lady, and I with them. There we dine 
well enough I warrant you, with his father-in- 
law. Sir Tho. Hunt. If I keep my whole 
promise, I shall Preach both forenoon and 
afternoon. But I will obey your command- 
ments for my return. If you cannot be there 
by 10, do not put 5^our selfe upon the way: for, 
Sir, you have done me more honour, then I can 
be worthy of, in missing me so diligently. I 

can 



2^2 Letters to sever all 

can hope to hear M. Moulin again: or rumi- 
nate what I have heretofore heard. The onely 
misse that I shall have is of the honour of 
waiting upon you; which is somewhat recom- 
pensed, if thereby you take occasion of not 
putting [not] your self to that pain, to be more 
assured of the inabilities of 

Your unworthy servant 
J. Donne. 



[CXVl.J 

To the Honourable Knight^ Sir 
Robert Karre. 



SIR, 



I Sought you yesterday with a purpose of 
accomplishing my health, by the honour 
of kissing your hands. But I finde by my 
going abroad, that as the first Christians were 
forced to admit some Jewish Ceremonies, onely 
to burie the Synagogue with honour, so my 
Feaver will have so much reverence and re- 
spect, as that I must keep sometimes at home. 
I must therefore be bold to put you to the 
pain of considering me. If therefore my Lord 
upon your deliverie of my last Letter, said 

nothing 



Persons of Honour. 253 

nothing to you of the purpose thereof; let me 
tell you now, that it was, that in obedience 
of his commandment to acquaint him with 
any thing which might advantage me, I was 
bold to present that which I heard, which was 
that Sir D\udley\ Carl[e]ton was likely to bee 
removed from Venice, to the States; of which 
if my Lord said nothing to you, I beseech you ' 
adde thus much to your many other Favours, 
to intreate my Lord at his best commodity, 
to aiford mee the favour of speaking with him. 
But if hee have already opened himselfe so 
farre to you, as that you may take knowledge 
thereof to him, then you may ease him of that 
trouble of giving mee an Audience, by troub- 
ling your selfe thus much more, as to tell him 
in my behalfe, and from mee, that though Sir 
D. Carlton bee not removed, yet that place 
with the States lying open, there is a faire 
field of exercising his favour towards mee, and 
of constituting a Fortune to me, and (that 
which is more) of a meanes for mee to doe 
him particular services. And Sir, as I doe 
throughly submit the end and eifect of all 
Projects to his Lordships will, so doe I this 
beginning thereof, to your Advice and Coun- 
sell, if you thinke mee capable of it: as, for 

your 



254 Letters to sever all 

your owne sake, I beseech you to doe, since 
you have admitted mee for 

Your humble servant 
J. Donne. 



[cxvii.] 

To the Honoured Knight^ Sir 
Robert Karre. 

S I R, 

I Amend to no purpose, nor have any use of 
this inchoation of health, which I finde, 
except I preserve my roome, and station in 
you. I beginne to bee past hope of dying: 
And I feele that a Httle ragge of Monte Magor 
[Montemor], which I read last time I was in 
your Chamber, hath wrought prophetically 
upon mee, which is, that Death came so fast 
towards mee, that the over-joy of that re- 
covered mee. Sir, I measure not my health 
by my appetite, but onely by my abilitie to 
come to kisse your hands: which since I cannot 
hope in the compasse of a few dayes, I be- 
seech you pardon mee both these intrusions 
of this Letter, and of that within it. And 
though Schoole-men dispute, whether a mar- 
ried man dying, and being by Miracle raised 

again 



Persons of Honour. 255 

again, must bee remarried; yet let your 
Friendship, (which is a Nobler learning) bee 
content to admit mee, after this Resurrection, 
to bee still that which I was before, and shall 
ever continue. 

Your most humble and thankfull 
20. Mar. Servant 

J. Donne. 



[cxviii.] 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir 

Robert Karre. 

S I R, 

WHen I was almost at Court, I met the 
Princes Coach: I thinke I obeyed your 
purposes best, therefore, in comming hither. 
I am sure I provided best for my selfe thereby; 
since my best degree of understanding is to 
bee governed by you. I beseech you give mee 
an assignation where I may wait upon you at 
your commoditie this Evening. Till the per- 
formance of which commandment from you, 
I rest here in the red Lion. 

Your very thankejull and affectionate 

Servant 
J. Donne. 

To 



256 



Letters to several! 



[cxix.] 
To the Honourable Knight, Sir Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

I Was loth to bee the onely man who should 
have no part in this great Festivall; 1 
thought therefore to celebrate that well, by 
spending some part of it in your company. 
This made mee seek you againe this after- 
noone, though I were guilty to my selfe of 
having done so every day since your comming. 
I confesse such an importunity is worthy to 
be punished with such a missing; yet, because 
it is the likeliest reparation of my Fortunes to 
hope upon Reversions, I would be glad of that 
Title in you: that, after solemnities, and busi- 
nesses, and pleasures be passed over, my time 
may come, and you may afford some of your 
last leisures to 



Your affectionate and humble servant 
4 Novemb. 

J: Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 257 

[cxx.] 

To the Honourable Knight, Sir 
Robert Karre. 

Sir, 

YOur mans haste gives me the advantage, 
that I am excusable in a short Letter, 
else I should not pardon it to my selfe. I shall 
obey your commandment of comming so neare 
you upon Michaelmas day, as by a Message 
to aske you whether that or the next morning 
bee the fittest to sollicite your further Favour. 
You understand all Vertue so well, as you may 
be pleased to call to minde what thankeful- 
nesse and services are due to you from me, 
and beleeve them all to bee expressed in this 
ragge of. Paper, which gives you new assur- 
ance, that I am ever 

Your most humble servant 
J. Donne. 



To 



ZSS 



Letters to severall 



[cxxi.] 
To your selfe. 

Sir, 

IF I shall never be able to do you any reall 
service, yet you may make this profit of 
me, that you be hereafter more cautelous in 
receiving into your knowledge, persons so 
uselesse, and importune. But before you 
come to so perfect a knowledge of me, as to 
abandon me, go forward in your favours to 
me, so farre, as to deliver this Letter accord- 
ing to the addresse. I think I should not come 
nearer his presence then by a Letter: and I am 
sure, I would come no other way, but by you. 
Be you therefore pleased, by these noble 
favours to me, to continue in me the comfort 
which I have in being 

Your very humble and thankfull servant 
Drury house, 23 Sept. J. Donne. 



To 



Persons of Honour, 259 



[cxxii.] 
To the Right Honourable Sir Robert K^rre. 

Sir, 

A Few hours after I had the honour of 
your Letter, I had another from my 
Lord of Bath and Wells, commanding from the 
King a Copy of my Sermon. I am in prepara- 
tions of that, with dihgence, yet this morning 
I waited upon his Lordship, and laid up in him 
this truth, that of the B. of Canterburies Ser- 
mon, to this hour, I never heard syllable, nor 
what way, nor upon what points he went: 
And for mine, it was put into that very order, 
in which I delivered it, more then two moneths 
since. Freely to you I say, I would I were a 
little more guilty: Onely mine innocency 
makes me afraid. I hoped for the Kings 
approbation heretofore in many of my Ser- 
mons; and I have had it. But yesterday I 
came very near looking for thanks; for, in my 
life, I was never in any one peece, so studious 
of his service. Therefore, exceptions being 
taken, and displeasure kindled at this, I am 
afraid, it was rather brought thither, then met 
there. If you know any more, fit for me, (be- 
cause 



26 o Letters to sever all 

cause I hold that unfit for me, to appear in my 
Masters sight, as long as this cloud hangs, and 
therefore, this day forbear my ordinary wait- 
ings) I beseech you to intimate it to 

Your very humble and very thankfull servant 

J. Donne. 

[cxxiii.] 

To the Right Honourable Sir Robert Karre, 
at Court. 

S I R, 

I Humbly thanke you, for this continuing 
me in your memory, and enlarging me so 
far, as to the memory of my Soveraign, and 
(I hope) my Master. My Tenets are always, 
for the preservation of the Religion I was born 
In, and the peace of the State, and the rectify- 
ing of the Conscience; in these I shall walke, 
and as I have from you a new seal thereof, in 
this Letter, so I had ever evidence in mine own 
observation, that these ways were truly, as 
they are justly, acceptable in his Majesties 
eare. Our blessed Saviour multiply unto him 
all blessings; Amen. 

Your very true and intire servant in Chr. Jes. 

J. Donne. 

To 



Persons of Honour. 261 

[cxxiv.] 

To the Right Honotirahle Sir Robert Karre, 
at Court. 

Sir. 

I Was this morning at your door, somewhat 
early; and I am put Into such a distaste 
of my last Sermon, as that I dare not practice 
any part of it, and therefore though I said 
then, that we are bound to speake aloud, 
though we awaken men, and make them fro- 
ward, yet after two or three modest knocks 
at the door, I went away. Yet I understood 
after, the King was gone abroad, and thought 
you might be gone with him. I came to give 
you an account of that, which does as well. I 
have now put into my Lord of Bath and Weils 
hands the Sermon faithfully exscr[c]ibed. I 
beseech you be pleased to hearken farther 
after it; I am still upon my jealousle, that 
the King brought thither some disaffection 
towards me, grounded upon some other de- 
merit of mine, and took it not from the Ser- 
mon. For, as Card[inal] Cusanus writ a Book 
Cribratio Alchorani^ I have cribrated, and re- 
cribated, and post-cribated the Sermon, and 
must necessarily say, the King who hath let 

fall 



2,62 Letters to sever all 



fall his eye upon some of my Poems, nfever saw, 
of mine, a hand, or an eye, or an affection, set 
down with so much study, and diligence, labour 
of syllables, as in this Sermon I expressed 
those two points, which I take so much to con- 
duce to his service, the imprinting of persuasi- 
bility and obedience in the subject. And the 
breaking of the bed of whisperers, by casting 
in a bone, of making them suspect and dis- 
trust one another. I remember I heard the 
old King say of a good Sermon, that he 
thought the Preacher never had thought of 
his Sermon, till he spoke it; it seemed to 
him negligently and extemporally spoken. 
And I knew that he had weighed every syl- 
lable, for halfe a year before, which made me 
conclude, that the King had before some 
prejudice upon him. So, the best of my hope 
is, that some over bold allusions, or expressions 
in the way, might divert his Majesty, from 
vouchsafing to observe the frame, and purpose 
of the Sermon. When he sees the generall 
scope, I hope his goodnesse will pardon col- 
laterall escapes. I intreated the B[ishop] to 
aske his Majesty, whether his displeasure 
extended so farre, as that I should forbear wait- 
ing, and appearing in his presence; and I had a 

return, 



Persons of Honour. 263 

return, that I might come. Till I had that, 
I would not offer to put my self under your 
roof. To day I come, for that purpose, to say 
prayers.- And if, in any degree, my health 
suffer it, I shall do so, to morrow. If any 
thing fall into your observation before that, 
(because the B. is likely to speake to the King 
of it, perchance, this night) if it amount to 
such an increase of displeasure, as that it 
might be unfit for me to appear, I beseech 
you afford me the knowledge. Otherwise, I 
am likely to inquire of you personally, to 
morrow before nine in the morning, and to 
put into your presence then 

Your very humble and very true^ and 
very honest servant to God and 
the King and you 

J. Donne. 

/ writ yesterday to my L[ord] Duke, by my 
L[ord] Carlile, who assured me of a gracious ac- 
ceptation of my putting myself in his protection. 



To 



264 



Letters to several! 



[cxxv.] 

To the Right Honourable Sir Robert Karre, 
at Court. 

S I R, 

IF I should refuse the liberty which you 
enlarge to me, of eating in your chamber, 
you might suspect that I reserved it for 
greater boldnesses, and would not spend it in 
this. But, in good faith, I do not eat before, 
nor can after, till I have been at home; so 
much hath my this years debility disabled me, 
even for receiving favours. After the Sermon, 
I will steal into my Coach home, and pray 
that my good purpose may be well accepted, 
and my defects graciously pardoned. Amen. 

Yours intirely 
J. Donne. 

/ will he at your chamber at one after noon. 



To 



Persons of Honour. 265 

[cxxvi.] 

To the Right Honourable Sir Robert Karre, 
at Court. 

S I R, 

I Pursued my ambition of having the 
honour to kisse your hands some where, 
so farre as to inform my selfe occasionally of 
my great neighbour. And I perceive he is 
under an inundation of uncertain commers, 
which he cannot devest, except I had your 
leave to speake plain to him. A second in- 
convenience is, that he is so deafe, that we 
must speak to the whole house, if we will 
speake to him. And a third is, that I am in a 
riddling, rather a juggling indisposition, fast 
and loose, and therefore dare not stirre farre. 
Yet Sir, I am not thereby unfit to receive the 
honour of seeing you here, if greater businesse 
have not overcome, or worn out, your former 
inclinablenesse to come into these quarters. 
If you shall be pleased to say to my man, that 
you will make as though you dined with me 
to day, and come, if your businesse require 
your going to his Lordship, you may dine with 
him, after you have fasted with me. Today, 
or any day, which may be more yours, I aske 

it 



266 Letters to sever all 

it of you with all earnestnesse, on this side 
importunity, which is the detestation of 

Your humblest and thankfullest servant 

J. Donne. 

[cxxvii.] 
To the Right Honourable Sir Robert Karre, 

at Court. 

S I R, 

THis morning I have received a significa- 
tion from my Lord Chamberlaine, that 
his Majesty hath commanded to morrows 
Sermon at S. James; And that it is the after- 
noon; (for, into my mouth there must not 
enter the word, after-dinner, because that 
day there enters no dinner into my mouth.) 
Towards the time of the service, I aske your 
leave, that I may hide my selfe in your out- 
chamber. Or if businesse, or privatenesse, or 
company make that inconvenient, that you 
will be pleased to assigne some servant of 
yours to shew me the Closet, when I come to 
your chamber. I have no other way there, 
but you ; which I say not, as though I had not 
assurance enough therein, but because you 
have too much trouble thereby; nor I have no 

other 



Persons of Honour. z6j 

other end there, then the Pulpit: you are my 
station, and that my exaltation; And in both, 
I shall ever endevour to keep you from being 
sorry for having thought well of, or being 
ashamed of having testified well for 

Your poor and very true 

servant in Chr. Jrs. 
J. Donne. 



[cxxviii.] 

To the Honourable Knight Sir Robert Karre, 
at Court. 

S I R, 

I Have obeyed the formes of our Church of 
Pauls so much, as to have been a solemn 
Christmas man, and tryed conclusions upon 
my selfe, how I could sit out the siege of new 
faces, every dinner. So that I have not seen 
the B[ishop] in some weeks. And I know not 
whether he be in case, to afford that privacy, 
which you justly desire. This day, I am in 
my bondage of entertaining. Suppers I pre- 
sume, are inconvenient to you. But this 
evening I will spie upon the B. and give you 
an account to morrow morning of his disposi- 
tion; when, if he cannot be intire to you, since 

you 



268 Letters to sever all 

you are gone so farre downwards in your 
favours to me, be pleased to pursue your 
humiliation so farre as to chuse your day, 
and either to suffer the solitude of this place, 
or to change it, by such company, as shall 
waite upon you, and come as a visitor and 
overseer of this Hospitall of mine, and dine 
or sup at this miserable chezmey \chez moi]. 

Your humblest and thankjullest servant 
4 Jan. i626[7] 

J. Donne. 

[cxxix.] 

To my Noble friend M"^'^ Cokain at 
Ashburne. 

My noblest sister^ 

BUt that it is sweetened by your command, 
nothing could trouble me more, then to 
write of my self. Yet, if I would have it 
known, I must write it my self; for, I neither 
tell children, nor servants, my state. I have 
never good temper, nor good pulse, nor good 
appetite nor good sleep. Yet, I have so much 
leasure to recollect my self, as that I can 
thinke I have been long thus, or often thus. 
I am not alive because I have not had enough 

upon 



Persons of Honour. 269 

upon me to kill me, but because It pleases God 
to passe me through many infirmities before he 
take me either by those particular remem- 
brances, to bring me to particular repentances, 
or by them to give me hope of his particular 
mercies in heaven. Therefore have I been 
more aflfected with Coughs in vehemence, 
more with deafenesse, more with toothach, 
more with the vurbah, then heretofore. All 
this mellows me for heaven, and so ferments 
me in this world, as I shall need no long con- 
coction in the grave, but hasten to the resur- 
rection. Not onely to be nearer that grave, 
but to be nearer to the service of the Church, 
as long as I shall be able to do any, I purpose, 
God willing, to be at London, within a fortnight 
after your receit of this, as well because I am 
under the obligation of preaching at Pauls 
upon Candlemas day, as because I know 
nothing to the contrary, but that I may be 
called to Court, for Lent service; and my wit- 
nesse is in heaven, that I never left out S. 
Dunstans, when I was able to do them that 
service; nor will now; though they that know 
the state of that Church well, know that I am 
not so bound, as the world thinks, to preach 
there; for, I make not a shilling profit of S. 

Dunstans 



270 Letters to sever all ^c. 

Dunstans as a Church man, but as my L[ord] 
of Dorset gave me the lease of the Impropria- 
tion, for a certain rent, and a higher rent, the 
my predecessor had it at. This I am fain to 
say often, because they that know it not, have 
defamed me, of a defectiveness towards that 
Church; and even that mistaking of theirs I 
ever have, and ever shall endevour to rectifie, 
by as often preaching there, as my condition 
of body will admit. All our company here 
is well, but not at home now, when I write; 
for, lest I should not have another return to 
London, before the day of your Carrier, I write 
this, and rest 

15 Jan. i63o[i] 

Abrey-hatch. Your very affectionate servant, 

and friend, and brother 
J. Donne. 



THE END 



NOTES 



NOTES 

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY 

"The most virtuous and excellent Lady M"^ Bridget 
Dunch," was the wife of Edmund Dunch of Wittenham, 
Berkshire, and the daughter of Sir Anthony Hungerford. 
Her mother, Elizabeth, was the daughter of Sir Thomas 
Lucy, son of the Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote whose deer 
play so large a part in the biographies of Shakespeare, and 
father of the Sir Thomas who became Donne's friend and 
correspondent. Her distinguished services as protectress 
of "that part of [Donne's] Soul, that he left behinde him, 
his Fame and Reputation" seem not to be elsewhere re- 
corded. 

I 

Mistress Bridget White, to whom the first four letters 
are addressed, is not otherwise known. Mr. Edmund Gosse 
is inclined to identify her with the Lady Kingsmill of the 
fifth letter. This lady, the daughter of Thomas White, Esq., 
of Southwick, Hants, married Sir Henry Kingsmill in 1612, 
and lived until 1672. If Mr. Gosse's conjecture is correct, 
Mistress White was in her teens when the first four letters 
were written, and Donne about twenty years her senior. He 
writes from his lodgings in the Strand, between which and 
his house at Mitcham, near Croydon, Surrey, he divided his 
time from 1605 to 1610. 

II 

The allusion to the illness of Sir Edward Herbert, after- 
ward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, fixes the date of this letter. 
He sailed from Dieppe for Dover in February, 1609, and came 

273 



274 Notes 



at once to London. In his Autobiography (ed. Sidney Lee, 
2d edition, London, n. d., p. 60) Herbert writes, 

"I had not been long in London, when a violent burning 
fever seized upon me, which brought me almost to my death, 
though at last I did by slow degrees recover my health." 

This and the preceding letter appear to have been written 
on the same day. 

IV 

Perhaps Mistress White's brother accompanied Sir 
Edward Herbert, who writes {loc. cit.), 

"The occasion of my going hither was thus: hearing that 
a war about the title of Cleves, Juliers, and some other 
provinces betwixt the Low Countries and Germany, should 
be made, by the several pretenders to it, and that the French 
king [Henry IV] himself would come with a great army into 
those parts; it was now the year of our Lord 1610, when my 
Lord Chandos and myself resolved to take shipping for the 
Low Countries, and from thence to pass to the city of Juliers, 
which the Prince of Orange resolved to besiege. Making all 
haste thither we found the siege newly begun; the Low 
Country army assisted by 4000 English under the command 
of Sir Edward Cecil." 

Juliers surrendered on August 22, 1610. 

V 

Sir Henry Kingsmill died October 26th, 1624, the day on 
which this letter was written. If the Lady Kingsmel, or 
Kingsmill, to whom It is addressed, was the Bridget White of 
the first four letters, the difference in its tone is the more 
interesting. The girl to whom Donne wrote so gaily fifteen 
years before, is now a widow, and the poverty-stricken 
student of 16C9 has become the great Dean of Saint Paul's. 



Notes 275 



VI 

To Sir Thomas Lucy, grandson of the Sir Thomas im- 
mortaUzed as Justice Shallow. Lucy was a friend of the 
Herberts, with whom Donne afterward became intimate, 
and a man of no mean intellectual power. 

Donne gave up his house in Mitcham, where this letter 
was written, in 1610 and never returned to it. Lucy went 
abroad with Sir Edward Herbert in 1608. This letter may 
belong to the autumn of 1607. 

vn 

This letter, Hke the next, was written in 1619, and but 
a fev/ months after Donne's appointment as Divinity Reader 
to the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn, 

"About which time," says Walton, "the Emperour of 
Germany died, and the Palsgrave, who had lately married 
the Lady Elizabeth, the King's onely daughter, was elected 
and crowned King of Bohemia, the unhappy beginning of 
many miseries in that Nation. 

" King James, whose Motto (Beati Pacifici) did truly speak 
the very thoughts of his heart, endeavoured first to prevent, 
and after to compose the discords of that discomposed State: 
and amongst other his endeavours did then send the Lord 
Hay Earl of Doncaster his Ambassadour to those unsetled 
Princes; and by a speciall command from his Majesty Dr. 
Donne was appointed to assist and attend that employment 
to the Princes of the Union: for which the Earl was most 
glad, who had alwayes put a great value on him, and taken 
a complacency in his conversation." 

On the eve of his departure Donne placed in the hands 
of a few friends manuscript copies of unpublished writings 
for whose preservation he wished to provide. 

BIA0ANATO2, A Declaration of that Paradoxe, or Thesis^ 
that Selfe-Homicide is not so Naturally Sinne, that it may 



276 



Notes 



never he otherwise^ wherein the Nature^ and the extent of all 
these lawes, which seem to be violated by this Act, are diligently 
surveyed, was not published until 1644, thirteen years after 
Donne's death. The manuscript of the BIA0ANATO2 which 
Donne gave to Sir Edward Herbert is now preserved in 
the Bodleian Library, to which Lord Herbert presented it 
in 1642, with the letter here printed and with the following 
inscription: 

HUNC LIBRUM AB AUTHORE CUM EPISTOLA 
QUI PRAEIT ATTOrPA^n DONO SIBI DATUM 
DUM EQUESTRIS OLIM ESSE ORDINIS EDVARDUS 
HERBERT, JAM BARO DE CHERBURY IN ANGLIA, 
ET CASTRI INSULAE DE KERRY IN HIBERNIA, 
E SUA BIBLIOTHECA IN BODLEIANAM TRANS- 
TULIT MERITISS. IN ALMAN MATREM ACAD. 
OXON. PIETATIS ET OBSERVANTIAE MNHMOST- 
NON, MDCXXII. 

VIII 

Sir Robert Ker (or Carr) accompanied King James from 
Scotland on his succession to the throne of England, and in 
1603 became Groom of the Bedchamber to Henry, Prince 
of Wales. For many years he was Donne's " friend at court." 
In 1633 was made Earl of Ancrum. On the breaking out of 
the civil war he fled to Holland, where he died in 1654. 

Donne's poems remained uncollected until after his 
death. Poems by J. D. with Elegies on the Author^ s Death 
appeared in 1633, and was reissued two years later. 

IX 

Lucy, the eldest daughter of the first Lord Harrington of 
Exton, and the wife of the third Earl of Bedford, was the 



Notes 277 



faithful friend and generous patron not only of Donne, 
but of Jonson, Drayton, Daniel, and many another man of 
genius. One of Jonson's Epigrams in her honour is not so 
well known as it deserves to be: 

On Lucy, Countess of Bedford 

"This morning, timely rapt with holy fire, 

I thought to form unto my jealous Muse, 
What kind of creature I could most desire. 

To honour, serve and love; as poets use. 
I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise, 

Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great; 
I meant the day star should not brighter rise, 

Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat. 
I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, 

Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride; 
I meant each softest virtue there should meet, 

Fit in that softer bosom to reside. 
Only a learned, and a manly soul 

I purposed her; that should, with even powers, 
The rock, the spindle, and the sheers control 

Of Destiny, and spin her own free hours. 
Such when I meant to feign, and wish'd to see, 
My Muse bade, Bedford write, and that was she!" 

In spite of Donne's opinion that "in letters, by which 
we deliver over our affection, and assurances of friendship 
. . . times and dales cannot have interest," we may note 
that this letter must have been written earlier than February 
1614, in which month died Lady Bedford's brother, the 
second Lord Harrington, to whom allusion is here made. 

X 

Susan, grand-daughter of William, Lord Burleigh, was 
the first wife of Philip, Earl of Montgomery. As Donne, on 
the eve of his German tour, leaves a copy of his Biathanatos 



278 



Notes 



in the safe-keeping of Sir Edward Herbert, and the manu- 
script of his poems in the hands of Sir Robert Ker, so he 
commits to the appropriate custody of the Countess of 
Montgomery ("A new Susannah, equal to that old," Ben 
Jonson called her) the manuscript of a sermon, which, 
when she heard him preach it, she had commended. 

The corrections bracketted in the text are from a MS. 
copy of the original, printed by Mr. Gosse, and reproduced 
here by his permission. 

XI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, as is sufficiently indicated by 
the allusion to the weekly letter which Donne was in the 
habit of writing to this most intimate of his friends, and 
written from Mitcham, therefore not later than 1610. Sir 
Henry Goodyer, Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to James I, 
was the son of William Goodyer of Monks Kirby. He 
married his cousin Frances, daughter of Sir Henry Goodyer 
the elder, and on his father-in-law's death in 1595 succeeded 
to the family estates at Polesworth. Sir Henry seems to 
have been an open-minded, open-handed, easy-going man, 
with the defects of his qualities. His fortune slipped 
through his fingers and he died (1628) in poverty. I have 
no doubt that it was to Goodyer that Donne made the 
present of which Walton writes: 

"He gave an hundred pounds at one time to an old friend, 
whom he had known live plentifully, & by a too liberal 
heart then decayed in his estate: and when the receiving 
of it was denied by saying, he wanted not; for as there be 
some spirits so generous as to labour to conceal and endure 
a sad poverty, rather than those blushes that attend the 
confession of it, so there be others to whom Nature and Grace 
have afforded such sweet and compassionate souls, as to pity 
and prevent the distresses of mankind; which I have men- 



Notes 



279 



tioned because of Dr. Donne's reply, whose answer was, I 
know you want not what will sustain nature, for a little 
will do that; but my desire is that you who in the dayes of 
your plenty have cheered the hearts of so many of your 
friends, would receive this from me, and use it as a cordiall 
for the cheering of your own: and so it was received." 

Goodyer's epitaph is quoted by Camden in the Remaines 
concerning Britain: 

"To the honour of Sir Henry Goodyer of Powlesworth, a 
Knight memorable for his vertues, an affectionate Friend 
of his framed this Tetrastich: 

'An ill year of a Goodyer us bereft. 
Who gone to God, much lack of him here left: 
Full of good gifts, of body and of mind. 
Wise, comely, learned, eloquent and kind.'" 

XII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. This letter belongs to 1607 or 
1608, and was written from Mitcham. Sick in mind and in 
body, poor in purse and in hopes, Donne's thoughts dwelt 
on suicide, and the fruit of his meditations was the book "of 
not much less than three hundred pages," Biathanatos, of 
which we have already heard. The "meditation in verse 
which I call a litany" is printed in the Poems (ed. Chambers, 
Vol. II, p. 174). 

The report that Broughton had gone over to Rome was 
without foundation in fact, though the rumour was of peri- 
odical occurrence. 

XIII 

George Garet, or Gerrard, the son of Sir William Gerrard 
of Dorney, Bucks, was one of Donne's closest friends, and to 
hira are addressed many of Donne's more personal letters. 

For what importunities in his behalf Donne here makes 



aSo Notes 

grateful acknowledgment we have no means of determining. 
The letter probably dates from 1614, when Donne was 
anxiously seeking profitable employment at Court. 

XIV 

"That good Gentlewoman," Bridget, wife of Sir Anthony 
Markham, was the daughter of Lady Bedford's brother, the 
second Lord Harrington of Exton, and one of the Ladies of 
the Bedchamber to Queen Anne. She died at Lady Bed- 
ford's house at Twickenham, May 4th, 1609, about which 
time this letter was written. Donne's Elegy is printed in 
his Poems (ed. Chambers, Vol. II, p. 86). 

Sir Thomas Roe was the grandson of the Lord Mayor 
of the same name. He was knighted in 1604 by King James, 
who, ten years later, appointed him ambassador to the Great 
Mogul. He died in 1644. To him is addressed Ben Jonson's 
Epigram, XCVIII. 

XV 

To George Gerrard's sister, and belonging to the same 
period as XIII. 

XVI 

Probably written from Amiens, to which place Donne 
accompanied Sir Robert Drury in 161 1, on that journey 
during which he had the vision described by Walton: 

"Two days after their arrival there [in Paris], Mr. 
Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert^ and 
he, and some other friends had din'd together. To this place 
Sir Robert return'd within half an hour, and, as he left, so 
he found Mr. Donne alone; but in such an Extasie, and, so 
alter'd as to his looks, as amaz'd Sir Robert to behold him: 
insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr. Donne to declare 
what had befaln him in the short time of his absence? to 
which, Mr. Donne was not able to make a present answer: 



Notes 281 

but, after a long and perplext pause, did at last say, / have 
seen a dreadful vision since I saw you; I have seen my dear 
wife pass twice by me through this room, with her hair hanging 
about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms : This I have 
seen since I saw you. To which Sir Robert reply'd; 'Sure 
Sir, you have slept since I saw you; and, this is the result of 
some melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for, you 
are nozv awake. ^ To which Mr. Bonnets reply was, '/ can- 
not he surer that I now live, then, that I have not slept since I 
saw you : and I am as sure, that at her second appearing, she 
stopt, and looked me in the face, and vanisht.' Rest and 
sleep, had not alter'd Mr. Donne's opinion the next day: for 
he then aflirm'd this vision with a more deliberate, and so 
confirm'd a confidence, that he inclin'd Sir Robert to a faint 
belief that the Vision was true. — It is truly said, that desire, 
and doubt, have no rest: and it prov'd so with Sir Robert, for 
he immediately sent a servant to Drewry house, with a charge 
to hasten back, and bring him word, whether Mrs. Donne 
were alive .^ and if alive, in what condition she was, as to her 
health? — The twelfth day the Messenger returned with this 
account — That he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and 
sick in her bed: and, that after a long and dangerous labour, 
she had been deliver'd of a dead child. And upon examina- 
tion, the abortion prov'd to be the same day, and about the 
very hour that Mr. Donne affirm'd he saw her pass by him 
in his Chamber." 

XVII 

This letter seems to belong to the same period as the last, 
and to have been intended by Donne as a sort of circular 
letter "to all my friends" at home. 

XVIII 

Written in 1608, as the reference to the sudden death 
of Captain Edmund Whitelocke indicates. Walton, who 
quotes a part of this letter, gives the date as September 7th. 

Mr. Jones may have been the friend to whose custody 



282 Notes 



Tobie Matthew was committed between his sentence of 
banishment and his departure from England. (See Note on 
XLV, below.) Mr. Holland was Henry Holland, the son 
of Philemon Holland, the translator of Suetonius and much 
else. The Lord of Sussex was Robert Ratcliffe, Earl of 
Sussex- 

XIX 

The postscript to this letter, written, like that which 
follows it, from Mitcham in the closing years of Donne's 
residence there, is serious enough, but the letter itself must 
be understood as extravagant banter, not without a touch 
of bitterness. "When sadness dejects me," says Donne in 
a letter (XXV) written about this time, "either I counter- 
mine it with another sadnesse, or I kindle squibs about me 
again, and flie into sportfulnesse." The present letter is the 
fruit of such a mood. 

The Aurum Reginae is the Queen Consort's share (one- 
tenth) of all fines exacted by the King, which under the old 
law was due to her. Mr. Hakewill was Queen Anne's Solici- 
tor-General. 

XXI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written after Sir Henry had 
entered the service of the Earl of Bedford and before Donne's 
removal from Mitcham to Drury House, therefore in 1609 
or 1610. The reference to "the new astronomy" is interest- 
ing. In 1609 Keppler announced his discovery of some of 
the laws governing planetary motion, although it was not 
until the following year that the Copernican System was, 
by the discoveries of Galileo, firmly established. Donne's 
mind seems to have been open to the new knowledge, when 
Bacon's was firmly closed against it. 



Notes 283 

XXII 

The reference to "my day" for payment of "this duty of 
letters," enables us to identify Donne's correspondent as 
Sir Henry Goodyer, to whom Donne was in the habit of 
writing every Tuesday. (Cf. the first sentence of XVIII.) 
When the present letter was written Donne was employed 
in assisting Thomas Morton, Dean of Gloucester, and the 
leader of the Anglican theologians in the all but interminable 
controversy with the Jesuits which involved so many of the 
ablest churchmen of the period. The "Apology" was 
probably Robert Parson's "confused and worthless work," 
the Treatise tending towards Mitigation^ in reply to which 
Sutcliffe published his Subversion in 1606, and Morton, two 
years later, his Preamble unto an Encounter, which, happily 
belying its name, went far toward closing the debate. 

XXIII 

The loss of her ladyship's verses on Donne, which are 
the subject of this letter, is the more to be regretted as none 
of her composition survives, though verses in her honour 
are found in the works of Donne, Ben Jonson, Daniel, 
Drayton, and other poets. This letter belongs to the same 
period as XXI. 

XXIV 

The postscript enables us to date the letter near the end 
of Donne's residence at Mitcham, when he was engaged in 
the politico-theological studies which resulted in the com- 
position of the Pseudo-Martyr in 1609. 

XXV 

Sir Henry Goodyer had lost both father and father-in-law 
long before his friend had occasion "to reduce to his thoughts 



284 



Notes 



the duties of a husband and a father, and all the incum- 
bencies of a fanr-ily." The reference in this letter to "your 
father's health and love" therefore seems to preclude the 
possibility that it was addressed to Goodyer. The absence 
of a date makes conjecture as to the identity of Donne's 
correspondent the more difficult. Fortunately the interest 
of the letter is independent of knowledge of the correspondent 
to whom it was addressed, consisting as it does in the light 
which it throws on the mental temperament of the writer. 

XXVI 

The marriage of the Princess Elizabeth and the Count 
Palatine took place in February, 1613. This letter with 
its anticipations of the great event may safely be assigned 
to the journey on which Donne accompanied Sir Robert 
Drury in 1611-12. "My book of M"' Drury" is Donne's 
strange poem in commemoration of the first anniversary of 
the death in 1610 of Sir Robert Drury's little daughter 
Elizabeth. An Anatomie of the World, wherein by occasion 
of the untimely death of Mistress Elizabeth Drury, the frailty 
and decay of this whole world is represented, was published in 
161 1. The extravagance of the homage here paid to a child 
whom Donne had never seen, and on whose father's bounty 
he and his family were living, was regarded by some of his 
friends as savoring rather too patently of insincerity. 

In commemoration of the second anniversary of Elizabeth 
Drury's death, Donne published in 1612 a poem Of the 
Progresse of the Soule. Wherein, by occasion of the religious 
death of Mistress Elizabeth Drury, the incommodities of the soule 
in this life, and her exaltation in the next, are contemplated. 

In 161 8 Ben Jonson told Drummond "that Done's Anni- 
versarie was profane and full of blasphemies: that he told 
Mr. Done, if it had been written of the Virgin Marie, It had 



Notes 285 



been something; to which he answered that he described the 
Idea of a Wonaan, and not as she was." {Conversations with 
Drummond, III.) 

XXVII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. The mention of "place and 
season" and the references to suffering of mind, body, and 
estate, enable us to date this letter from Mitcham in the 
spring of 1608, when Donne was in his thirty-fifth year. 

XXVIII 
William Fowler, to whom we have already had a jesting 
reference (XIX) was Secretary to Queen Anne. It is not 
clear whether the place to which Donne aspired was the 
secretaryship, which, as he was informed. Fowler was about 
to resign, or some other position In the Secretary's gift which 
Donne was anxious to secure before Fowler went out of 
office. In either case, his hope was not realized. 

XXIX 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written in the summer of 
1623 when the Prince and Buckingham were in Spain. 

The current news from Bohemia must have been of 
especial interest to Donne in the light of his experience as 
the companion of Viscount Doncaster's journey to that 
unhappy country six years before. (See note to VII.) 

XXX 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. If the allusion to the "French 
Prince" refers to the visit of the Prince de Joinville who 
was "despatched back again" in June, 1607, this letter 
may be assigned to the summer of that year. "These two 
problems" are probably part of the luvenilia, or Certaine 
Paradoxes and Problems^ written by I. Donne and published 



286 Notes 

posthumously in 1633. The "ragge of verses" survives as 
the "Verse Letter to Sir Henry Goodyer," printed in Donne's 
Poems (ed. Chambers, Vol. II, p. 10). In the Poems of 1633 
there is a copy of this letter following a text so much better 
than that of the Letters of 1651, that it has seemed worth 
while to reprint it in its entirety. 

" Sir, — This Teusday morning, which hath brought me 
to London, presents mee with all your letters. Mee thought 
it was a rent day, I mean such as yours, and not as mine. And 
yet such too, when I considered how much I ought you for 
them. How good a mother, how fertile and abundant the 
understanding is, if shee have a good father. And how well 
friendship performes that office. For that which is denyed 
in other generations is done in this of yours. For hers is 
superfaetation, child upon child, and, that which is more 
strange, twinnes at a later conception. If in my second 
religion, friendship, I had a conscience, either Errantem to 
mistake good and bad, and indifferent, or Opinantem to be 
ravished by others opinions or examples, or Dubiam to ad- 
here to neither part, or Scrupulosam to encline to one, but 
upon reasons light in themselves or indiscussed in mee 
(which are almost all the diseases of conscience) I might 
mistake your often, long, and busie letters, and fear you did 
but interest me to have mercy upon you and spare you. 
For you know our court tooke the resolution, that it was the 
best way to dispatch the French Prince backe againe quickly, 
to receive him solemnely, ceremoniously; and expensively, 
when he hoped a domestique and durable entertainment. 
I never meant to excell you in waight nor price, but in num- 
ber and bulke I thought I might: Because he may cast up a 
greater summe who hath but forty small moneyes, than hee 
with twenty Portuguesses. The memory of friends (I meane 
only for letters) neither enters ordinarily into busied men, 
because they are ever employed within, nor into men of 
pleasure, because they are never at home. For these wishes 
therefore which you wonne out of your pleasure and recrea- 
tion, you were as excusable to mee if you writ seldom as Sir 



Notes 



2.87 



H. Wotten [who] is under the oppression of businesse or the 
necessity of seeming so : Or more than hee, because I hope you 
have both pleasure and businesse. Only to me, who have 
neither, this omission were sinne. For though writing be 
not of the precepts of friendship, but of the counsells: yet, 
as in some cases to some men counsells become precepts, 
though not immediately from God, yet very roundly and 
quickly from this Church, (as selling and dividing goods in 
the first time, continence in the Roman Church, and order 
and decency in ours) so to mee who can doe nothing else, it 
seemes to binde my conscience to write. And it is sinne to 
doe against the conscience, though that erre; Yet no mans 
letters may be better wanted than mine, since my whole 
letter is nothing else but a confession that I should and 
would write. I ought you a letter in verse before by mine 
owne promise, & now that you thinke you have hedged in 
that debt by a greater by your letter in verse I thinke it now 
most seasonable and fashional for mee to breake. At 
least, to write presently were to accuse my selfe of not 
having read yours so often as such a letter deserves from 
you to mee. To make my debt greater (for such is the desire 
of all, who cannot or meane not to pay) I pray reade these 
two problems: for such light flashes as these have beene my 
hawkings in my Surry journies. I accompany them with 
another ragge of verses, worthy of that name for the smal- 
nesse, and age, for it hath long lyen among my other papers, 
and laughs at them that have adventured to you: for I 
thinke till now you saw it not, and neither you, nor it should 
repent it. Sir, if I were any thing, my love to you might 
multiply it, and dignifie it: But infinite nothings are but 
one such: Yet since even Chymeraes have some name, and 
titles, I am also, 

"Yours," 

XXXI 

That many of the letters headed "To Yourself" were 
addressed to George Gerrard there is ample evidence; that 
any of the letters so headed were addressed to another 



288 Notes 

correspondent there is, so far as I know, no reason for 
believing. 

Donne writes from Spa, to which place he accompanied 
Sir Robert and Lady Drury in May, 1612. 

By 1582, the recurring annual error of approximately 
eleven minutes in the Julian calendar amounted to ten days. 
Pope Gregory XIII accordingly ordained that ten days 
should be deducted from the year 1582 by reckoning what 
according to the old calendar would have been the 5th, as 
the 15th of October. Spain, Portugal, and part of Italy 
carried out the Pope's instructions exactly; in France the 
change was deferred until December, when the loth was 
reckoned as the 20th; in the Low Countries the change was 
from December 15th to December 25th. England did not 
adopt the change until 1752, when the 3d of September, 
old style, was reckoned as September 14th. "26 July here 
(i.e., at Spa) 161 2" would, therefore, in England be July x6th, 
1612. 

Lord Treasurer Salisbury died May 24th, 1612. That 
contemporary estimate of his abilities which Is, perhaps, 
most in accord with modern judgments is that of Francis 
Bacon: 

"Soon after the death of a great Officer, who was judged 
no advancer of the King's Matters, the King said to his 
Solllcitor Bacon, who was his Kinsman: Now tell me truly, 
what say you of your Cousin that Is gone? Mr. Bacon 
answered, Sir, since your Majesty doth charge me, I'll e'ne 
deal plainly with you, and give you such a character of him, 
as if I were to write his Story. I do think he was no fit 
Counsellor to make your Affairs better; but yet he was fit 
to have kept them from growing worse. The King said, 
On my So'l, Man, in the first thou speakest like a True Man, 
and in the latter like a Kinsman." {Baconiana, 1679, 
P- 55-) 



Notes 289 



XXXII 

This letter may conceivably have been addressed to 
George Hastings, Fourth Earl of Huntingdon. I think, 
however, that "To my Lord G. H." is the younger Donne's 
mistake for "To Sir H. G." The reference to Lady Bedford, 
to whose husband's establishment Sir Henry Goodyer was 
at this time attached, and the tone of the letter in general 
seem to me to support this supposition. As Donne left 
London with Sir Robert Drury late in November, 161 1, this 
letter may be attributed with some confidence to the latter 
part of that year. 

XXXIII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. Mr. Gosse places this letter in 
point of date of composition between VI (October 9th, 1607) 
and XLV (March 14th, 1608). Certainly the three letters 
have points of resemblance striking enough to serve as a 
basis for the inference that they belong to the same period 
of Donne's life. I know of no external evidence as to date, 
however, and the internal evidence is of the slightest. If, 
as I venture to infer from some of the expressions used, the 
letter was written after Donne had taken orders, it cannot 
be of earlier date than 161 5. 

XXXIV 

Written from Peckham, the home of Sir Thomas Grymes, 
the husband of Donne's sister Jane. As the time of Donne's 
ordination (January, 161 5) approached, he applied to several 
friends, Lady Bedford ("the Countess") and the Countess 
of Huntingdon ("the other Countess") among them, to help 
him pay his debts before making his "valediction to the 
world." Lady Bedford sent him £30; the Countess of 
Huntingdon responded even more liberally. Six verse 



290 Notes 



letters to Lady Bedford and two to Lady Huntingdon are 
printed in Donne's Poems (ed. Chambers). 

XXXV 

Sir George More, Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant 
of the Tower (to whom the news of his daughter's secret 
marriage to Donne (1601) was "so immeasurably unwel- 
come, and so transported him, that, as though his passion 
of anger and inconsideration might exceed theirs of love and 
errour," he had procured his son-in law's dismissal from the 
post of Secretary to Sir Thomas Egerton), had, by the date 
of this letter, become "so far reconciled, as to wish their hap- 
pinesse, and not to deny them his paternal blessing," though 
he still "refused to contribute any means that might con- 
duce to their livelihood." 

The Donnes had accepted the invitation of Mrs. Donne's 
cousin. Sir Francis Wooley, to be his guests, on his inheri- 
tance in 1602 of the estate of Pyrford, in Surrey, "where 
they remained with much freedom to themselves, and equal 
comfort to him for many years," says Walton. In reality 
their residence at Pyrford extended from some time in 1602 
to the winter of 1604-5. To this period the letter belongs. 
The "entreaty that you let goe no copy of my Problems" 
may refer to some unrevised MS. of the luvenalia. (See 

note to XXX.) 

XXXVI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. "My custom of writing" is one 
of the many allusions to Donne's weekly letter to Goodyer. 
I find nothing in the present letter on which to base any very 
accurate dating. 

XXXVH 

To George Gerrard. The nearest indication of the date 
of this letter is found in the mention of Sir Germander Pool. 



Notes 291 

John Chamberlain in a letter to Sir Ralph Winwood, dated 
March loth, 16H writes: 

"I know not whether I told you in my former, of an odd 
fray that happened much about that time [February 23d, 
i6t§] near the Temple, 'twixt one Hutchison of Grays-Inn, 
and Sir German Pool; who, assaulting the other upon 
Advantage, and cutting off two of his Fingers, besides a 
Wound or two more before he could draw, the Gentleman 
finding himself disabled to revenge himself by the Sword, 
flew in upon him, and, getting him down, tore away all his 
Eyebrow with his Teeth, and then seizing on his Nose, tore 
away all of it, and carried it away in his Pockett." 

Mr. Gosse suggests that it is not unlikely that Sir Ger- 
mander's singular disfigurement led to the resignation of 
which Donne speaks. 

With the exception of this letter and the passage just 
quoted from the Winwood Memorials I have been unable to 
find in print any reference to Sir Germander. Through the 
unwearying kindness of Mr. Gosse, however, and the re- 
searches of Lord Raglan, undertaken at his instance, I am 
able to give some particulars of the history of this unlucky 
knight. He was baptized — as German or Germaine (Ger- 
mander is a corruption) — in 1573. He fought in Ireland 
under Montjoy in 1599; he was knighted at Dublin Castle 
by the Lord Deputy of Ireland on the 20th of April, 1603; 
and in 1625 he had so far triumphed over his misfortunes as 
to win the hand of Millicent, daughter of Francis Mundy, 
Esq., of Markeaton, who bore him a son. 

XXXVIII 
To Sir Henry Goodyer. More than once Donne insists 
on the sincerity of his letters. So he writes to Mrs. Herbert: 

"If this sounds like a flattery, believe it not. I am to 



292, Notes 



my letters rigid as a Puritan, as Caesar was to his wife. I 
can as ill endure a suspicion and misinterpretable word as a 
fault." 

XXXIX 

The reference to the cessation of hostilities in the Low 
Countries following the Truce of Bergen (April 19th, 1609) 
enables us to complete the date of this letter. "The best 
Lady," here as elsewhere, is the Countess of Bedford. Per- 
haps the letter to Lady Bedford, enclosed in this letter, and 
presumably in verse, was written in acknowledgment of her 
verses on Donne, which are the subject of a letter to her 
already given (XXIII). 

XL 

To Sir John Harington, now best remembered as the 
translator of Ariosto, and one of the brilliant group of poets 
and wits which met at the Countess of Bedford's house at 
Twickenham and which included Ben Jonson, Drayton, 
Daniel, Donne, and many lesser lights. Harington died in 
1612. Donne's daughter Lucy was born at MItcham in 
1608 and died nineteen years later at the Deanery of Saint 
Paul's. 

XLI 

Sir Henry Wotton was in England when this letter was 
written early in 1612, and Donne was probably at Amiens, 
shortly to proceed to Paris with Sir Robert Drury. The 
phrase " when I was last here" is the only known evidence 
of an earlier visit to France, 

In the Lije of Wotton, Walton writes: 

"I must not omit the mention of a love that was there [at 
Oxford] begun betwixt him and Dr. Donne, sometime Dean 
of St. Paul's; a man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say 



Notes 293 



anything, because he who is of this nation, and pretends to 
learning or ingenuity, and is ignorant of Dr. Donne, deserves 
not to know him. The friendship of these two I must not 
omit to mention, being such a friendship as was generously 
elemented; and as it was begun in their youth, and in an 
University, and there maintained by correspondent incli- 
nations and studies, so it lasted till age and death forced a 
separation." 

XLII 

This letter, to Sir Henry Goodyer, was written but a few 
weeks later than the preceding letter to Sir Henry Wotton. 
Their arrangement in sequence is one of John Donne, Junior's 
rare triumphs as an editor of correspondence. The two 
letters admirably illustrate the manysidedness of Donne's 
contact with the life of his time, social, political, and ecclesias- 
tical. For the date, see note to XXXI, above. 

XLHI 

There is no conclusive evidence, internal or external, as 
to which of Donne's correspondents is here addressed; cer- 
tainly not Sir Henry Wotton, who was not a father, and who 
had recently returned from an important embassy in Ger- 
many, and who, a year later, became Provost of Eton College, 
to Bacon's great disappointment. The intimate tone of 
the letter suggests that it was addressed to Sir Henry Good- 
yer, who had already begun to be "encombred and distressed 
in his fortunes." 

XLIV 

A. V\uestrd\ Merced^ "to your worship," is the common 
Spanish form of address. The allusion to the plague enables 
us to assign the letter to 1608, and this date in connection 
with the references to "My Lady" [Bedford] and to "Twick- 
nam" suggest that Donne's correspondent was Sir Henry 



294 Notes 



Goodyer, in the service of the Earl of Bedford. "Mistress 
Herbert" is Mrs. Magdalen Herbert, the mother of the saintly 
George Herbert and his unsaintly brother Edward. Of 
Mrs. Herbert, after she had become Lady Danvers, Donne 
speaks in what is perhaps the best remembered of his poems, 
the lines beginning: 

"No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace 
As I have seen in one autumnal face," 

and the best remembered of his sermons, except Death's 
Duel, is that in commemoration of her death. 

"M"^ Meauly" according to Dr. Jessopp (quoted by Mr. 
Gosse) is Mistress Meautys, one of the members of Lady 
Bedford's household, and, if so, possibly a connection of 
Bacon's faithful follower. 

XLV 

"M. Mathews" is Toby Matthew, the eldest son of Dr. 
Tobias Matthew, Archbishop of York. Three years before, 
while travelling in Italy, he had become converted to Roman- 
ism. On his return to England in the summer of 1607, his 
case was laid before the King, who suggested that he be 
required to take the oath, abjuring allegiance to Rome. 
This he refused to do, and was committed to the Fleet 
prison by Dr. Bancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
there visited by Bishop Andrews, Morton, then Dean of 
Gloucester, Sir Henry Goodyer, Donne, and others. In a 
letter dated nth February i6o7[8] the voluminous Chamber- 
lain wrote to Carleton: 

"Your friend, Tobie Matthew, was called before the 
Council-table on Sunday in the afternoon, and, after some 
schooling, the Earl of Salisbury told him that he was not 
privy to his imprisonment, which he did in no ways approve, 



Notes 



^95 



as perceiving that so light a punishment would make him 
rather more proud and perverse. But in conclusion they 
allotted him six weeks' space to set in order and depart the 
realm. 

He left England accordingly, and lived on the Continent 
until 1623, when he was forgiven, invited to return, and 
knighted by the King. Apart from his extraordinary per- 
sonality his chief claim on our interest is that he was the 
life-long friend and correspondent of Francis Bacon. 

XLVI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. Written between the death of 
Sir Geoffrey Fenton in October, 1608, and the performance 
of Ben Jonson's Masque of Queens on February 2d, 1609. 
Donne was not successful in his attempt to secure the posi- 
tion left vacant by Fenton's death, for all the "haste and 
words" of Lord Hay and other friends. James Hay was a 
Gentleman of the Privy Chamber in Scotland, and came to 
England with the King. In 1603 the King appointed him 
Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and knighted him. In 1606 
he was made Lord Hay, and afterwards became Viscount 
Doncaster, and Earl of Carlisle. Donne accompanied him 
on his embassy to the Palatinate. (See note on VII, above.) 

This letter gives us our earliest mention of a warm 
friendship that lasted as long as Donne lived. In his will 
he bequeathed to Carlisle "the picture of the Blessed Virgin 
Mary which hangs in the little dining-chamber." 

XLVII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. I cannot identify the "paper" 
the composition of which helped Donne to pass the anxious 
hours that brought him a son; but as the letter was written 
during his residence at Mitcham, where the Donnes went 



296 



Notes 



to live shortly after the birth of their son George, the birth 
here recorded must have been that of Francis, Donne's 
fourth child and third son, who was baptized at Mitcham 
January 8th, 1607, and who died in infancy. John, who 
survived to be the first editor of these letters, was now three 
years old. 

XLVIII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and apparently written during 
the anxious weeks between Donne's decision to enter the 
church and his ordination in January, 161 5. (See note on 
XXXIV, above.) "That good lady" is, of course, the 
Countess of Bedford, "Mr. Villars" is George Villiers, soon 
to be the Duke of Buckingham, and "Mr. Karre" Is a nephew 
of Somerset, the present favourite. The "Masque of Gentle- 
men" may have been Ben Jonson's The Golden Age Restored^ 
in a Masque at Court, 161 j, by the Lords and Gentlemen, the 
King's Servants, first printed in the folio of 1616. 

Sir Robert Rich, later Earl of Warwick, lived to become 
Lord High Admiral for the Parliament, 1643-5, 1648-9. 
Three years after the date of this letter we find Donne plan- 
ning to meet Sir Robert at Frankfort. (XLH.) Lord Dorset 
(Richard, third Earl of Dorset) was one of the most gener- 
ous of Donne's patrons. To him Donne owed the reversion 
of St. Dunstan's. 

XLIX 

To Sir Henry Goodyer and presumably of later date than 
the letter to Sir John Harington (XL) of August 6, 1608, 
which contains our earliest record of Donne's acquaintance 
with "that good lady," the Countess of Bedford, and to 
which allusion may be made in the last paragraph of the 
present letter. The Lord Harrington here mentioned must 
be one of the Harringtons of Exton, probably the second 
Lord Harrington, who was Lady Bedford's brother. 



Notes 



297 



The home of Donne's brother-in-law, Sir Thomas Gryme, 
where the Donnes were frequent guests, was in Peckham. 

L 
To Sir Robert Drury, and written at the lowest ebb of 
Donne's fortunes, when he was casting about for court prefer- 
ment of any kind. The marriage of Somerset and Lady 
Frances Howard, whose marriage to Essex had at length 
been annulled, took place December 26, 161 3. One would 
be glad to forget that Donne wrote the beautiful epitha- 
lamium which connects him with this unholy union, and so 
gives the approximate date of this letter. 

LI 

That this letter was written in the year 1621, and not ten 
years earlier, is evident from the references to contemporary 
events. The contrast between Donne's circumstances as 
indicated in the present letter and his situation at the date 
of the preceding letter is striking. In less than three months 
from August 30th, 1621, he became Dean of Saint Paul's; 
from this date until the end his fame both as preacher and 
as saint, continued in the ascendent. 

Archbishop Abbot's "accident" was his unfortunate killing 
of a game-keeper in Lord Zouch's park. No one doubted that 
the killing was accidental, but it was questioned whether the 
homicide, even though involuntary, did not render him in- 
capable of holding the see of Canterbury. A commission 
appointed to inquire into the ecclesiastical status of the Arch- 
bishop at length reported that his title was without flaw. 
"Lady Nether soles'''' is Goodyer's daughter Lucy, the wife of 
Sir Francis Nethersole. 

LII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written in 1609. Mr. Gosse 
thinks the book here discussed is the Bishop of Lincoln's 



298 



Notes 



Answer to a Catholic Englishman, but Donne's criticism 
is equally applicable to a score of volumes which appeared 
in connection with the doctrinal controversy springing from 
the vexed questions arising in the King's relations with his 
Catholic subjects. 

During this year Donne completed his Pseudo-Martyr, 
Wherein out of certaine Propositions and Gradations, This 
Conclusion is evicted, That those zvhich are of the Romane 
Religion in this Kingdome, may and ought to take the Oath of 
Allegeance. 

LIII 

As to the identity of "Sir T. H." I have no conjecture 
to offer. Lord Cranfield "received his staffe" as Lord High 
Treasurer in September, 1621. For "my L. of Canterburies 
irregularity" see note to LI, above. 

LIV 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written in 161 4 but a few 
months later than the letter to Sir Robert Drury already 
printed. (L.) The "Book of the Nullity" is apparently 
either the record of the legal proceedings looking to the 
annulment of the marriage of the Earl of Essex and Lady 
Frances Howard or a brief, covering the arguments in favour 
of the nullity, drawn up by Donne in the hope of reward in 
the shape of patronage from Somerset. 

LV 

To Sir Henry Goodyer and written five months later than 
the preceding letter. Donne is still seeking court employ- 
ment. The Lord Chancellor is Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord 
Ellesmere, whom Donne had served as Secretary fifteen 
years before. 



Notes 299 



LVI 

Written in 1619, on the eve of Donne's departure for the 
Palatinate. (See VII, note.) "My Lord" is, of course, 
Lord Hay. "M. Gher" is George Gerrard. "M. Martin" 
is presumably Donne's friend, Richard Martin, mentioned 
in XIX and XLI. He died a few months before the date of 
this letter, and Sir Henry Goodyer has evidently been urging 
Donne to write a poem in his memory. 

The Queen died on March 2d. "That noble Countess" 
is Lady Bedford. 

LVII 
To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written three months after 
Donne became Dean of St. Paul's. Lady Ruthyn was the 
sister-in-law of the Earl of Kent, who had promised to Donne 
the living of Blunham in Bedfordshire. 

LVIII 
To Sir Henry Goodyer. The allusions to the birth of 
Donne's son Nicholas (baptized in August, 161 3) and to the 
(erroneous) report of the death of Tobie Matthew, who was 
dangerously ill at Rome, give the date of this letter. 

LIX 

As Somerset and Lady Frances Howard were married in 
December, 1613, following the declaration of "the nullity" 
which is here in question, this letter must be assigned to 
January of the same year. (See notes to L and LIV, 
above.) I am unable to identify G. K. Lady Bartlet seems 
to have acted as housekeeper for Sir Robert Drury at Drury 
House, where the Donnes were living when this letter was 
written. "That noble lady at Ashworth" was the third 
wife of Donne's old friend and employer. Sir Thomas Egerton. 



300 Notes 



LX 

Of this letter, and of LXVII, apparently sent to the same 
person, I can give no satisfactory account. An unpub- 
lished letter from Donne to Sir G. Brydges is said to be in 
existence, and the present letter may be addressed to him. 

LXI 

Evidently to Sir Henry Goodyer. " Your son Sir Francis " 
is Sir Francis Nethersole, who had married Goodyer's daugh- 
ter Lucy, and who had apparently been imprisoned for debt. 

Poor Constance Donne, a year after "her losse" here 
described, was married to Edward Alleyn, the actor-manager 
and founder of Dulwich College, a man who was consider- 
ably older than her father, and who seems to have made her 
thoroughly unhappy. 

LXII 

Evidently misdated for 1612, and written a few weeks 
after the date of XXXI. (See note to XVI.) 

LXIII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written in 1614, but a few 
days after XLVHI. 

LXIV 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. The references to "the good 
Countess" of Bedford and to Mitcham fix the date of this 
letter as later than August, 1608, and earlier than the spring 
of 1610, when Donne moved his family to Drury House. Sir 
Henry Goodyer was now in the service of the Earl of Bedford. 

LXV 
To Sir Henry Goodyer, and written two days later than 
LXHI. Apparently Tobie Matthew had deposited a part 



Notes 301 



of his fortune in Goodyer's keeping to avoid the possibility 
of confiscation. (See note to XLV, above.) By 1614 Sir 
Henry's affairs were in hopeless confusion. (See note to 
XI, above.) 

No copy of Donne's Poems in an earlier edition than that 
of 1633 has been discovered, and it is unlikely that he 
carried out the intention, here expressed, of printing them 
during his lifetime. 

LXVI 

For "my L. of Canterburies businesse" see note to 
LI, above. "My little book of Cases" is presumably the 
Paradoxes and Problems. 

LXVIII 
Donne was presented to the living of Keyston, in Hunting- 
donshire, by the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn in 1616. Wrest 
was the home of the Earl of Kent. (See note to LVII, 
above.) "My Lady Spencer," the daughter of Sir John 
Spencer of Althorpe, and third wife of Sir Thomas Egerton, 
is "that noble lady at Ashworth" of LIX. 

LXIX 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. This letter appears to belong 
to the period of Sir Henry's prosperity, and was written, I 
think, either from Mitcham, or from Donne's lodgings in the 
Strand; in either case, not earlier than 1605 nor later than 
1610. Parson's Green was in the parish of Fulham, Middle- 
sex. Ben Jonson has an Epigram {LXXXV) anent Sir 
Henry Goodyer's hawks: 

"Goodyere, I'm glad, and grateful to report, 

Myself a witness of thy few days sport; 

Where I both learn'd, why wise men hawking follow, 



302 



Notes 



And why that bird was sacred to Apollo: 
She doth instruct men by her gallant flight, 
That they to knowledge so should tower upright. 
And never stoop, but to strike ignorance; 
Which if they miss, yet they should re-advance 
To former height, and there in circle tarry. 
Till they be sure to make the fool their quarry. 
Now, in whose pleasures I have this discerned, 
What would his serious actions me have learned?" 

And in the verses enclosed in his letter (XXX) to Goodyer, 
Donne writes: 

"Our soule, whose country is heaven, & God her father, 

Into this world, corruptions sinke, is sent, 
Yet, so much in her travaile she doth gather, 

That she returnes home, wiser than she went; 
It pays you well, if it teach you to spare 

And make you asham'd, to make your hawks praise, yours, 
Which when herselfe she lessens in the aire. 

You then first say, that high enough she toures." 

LXX 

To Sir Thomas Roe. Until 1752, when by Act of Parlia- 
ment the first day of January became the first day of the 
year, the year began on March 25th and ended on the follow- 
ing March 24th. What to Donne was "the last (day) of 
1607" would be to us March 24th, 1608. Since 1752 there- 
fore It has been a common practice in referring to dates falling 
between January 1st and March 24th inclusive of all years 
previous to the year 1752 to give both years. So we woilld 
give the date of the execution of Charles I as January 30th, 

"The Mask" is possibly Ben Jonson's The Hue and Cry 
after Cupid, "celebrating the happy marriage of John Lord 
Ramsey, Viscount Hadington, with the Lady Elizabeth 



Notes 



303 



Ratcliffe," of which Rowland White wrote to the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, "The great Maske intended for my L. Hadding- 
ton's marriage is now the only thing thought upon at Court." 

LXXI 

I have not succeeded in finding a clue to the "accident" 
of which Donne writes. It would seem that some friend or 
relation of Sir Henry Goodyer's had met with sudden, and 
perhaps violent, death. 

Lxxn 

In point of date of composition, this is probably the 
earliest of the published letters of Donne, who in December, 
1600, had been for more than three years chief secretary to 
Sir Thomas Egerton, the Lord Keeper, from whose friendly 
custody the Earl of Essex was set free in July, 1600. 

The identity of "G. H." is unknown and conjecture is 
needless. Perhaps he was one of those followers of Essex 
who had been imprisoned at the time of the first trial of 
their unhappy leader, but who had not shared in his release. 

Within the three months following the date of this letter 
Essex had again offended, this time beyond the possibility 
of pardon. He was beheaded on February 25th, 1601. 

In such times, one may suppose that the Lord Keeper's 
young secretary had matters in hand more pressing than the 
payment of that debt of "a continual tribute of letters" 
which he acknowledges with a gravity in which one imagines 
a touch of irony. Yet Donne could hardly help feeling a 
special interest in one whose attachment to Essex had brought 
him on evil days. He himself had served under Essex in 
the Cadiz expedition of 1596 and in the Islands Voyage of 
1597, "waiting upon his Lordship," says Walton, "and being 



304 Notes 



an eye-witnesse of those happy and unhappy employments," 
a privilege which in the latter enterprise he shared with young 
Thomas Egerton, the Lord Keeper's son. 

LXXIII 

This, like the other letters addressed "To Yourself" 
may not improbably be addressed to George Gerrard, who 
is known to have been a friendly critic of Donne's poems. 
The translation sent with this letter is almost certainly the 
lines "Translated out of Gazaeus, * Vota Amico Facta,' Fol. 
160:" 

"God grant thee thine owne wish, and grant thee mine, 
Thou who dost, best friend, in best things outshine; 
May thy soule, ever cheerful, ne'er know cares, 
Nor thy life, ever lively, know grey haires, 
Nor thy hand, ever open, know base holds. 
Nor thy purse, ever plump, know pleates, or folds, 
Nor thy tongue, ever true, know a false thing. 
Nor thy word, ever mild, know quarrelling. 
Nor thy works, ever equal, know disguise. 
Nor thy fame, ever pure, know contumelies. 
Nor thy prayers know low objects, still divine; 
God grant thee thine owne wish, and grant thee mine." 

An edition of En6e de Gaza's Theophrastus was published 
at Zurich in 1560. 

LXXIV 

Evidently addressed, not to Sir Thomas Lucy, but to 
Sir Henry Goodyer as the allusions to Polesworth, Sir Henry's 
home, and to Bedford House sufficiently indicate. The date 
also must be incorrectly given as Donne's "service at Lin- 
coln's Inne" did not begin until 1616, by which date, however, 
he had ceased to reside at Drury House, from which this let- 
ter, as printed, is dated. One is inclined to concur for the 



Notes 305 



moment in Mr. Gosse's opinion that the Letters of 1651 is 
" the worst edited book in the English language." 

LXXV 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and, as the record of the closing 
incidents of the Elector Palatine's long struggle shows, 
written in 1622. 

LXXVI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer on the death of his wife in 1604. 

LXXVH 

To Sir Henry Goodyer. The quarrel between Hertford 
and Monteagle and the last illness of Cecil Boulstrod, here 
recorded, give the date of this letter as 1609. Cecil Boul- 
strod was a Lady of the Bedchamber to Queen Anne. Ben 
Jonson read to Drummond his "Verses on the Pucelle of the 
Court, Mistress Boulstred, whose Epitaph Donne made." 
They are little to the credit of either the lady or the poet. 
Drummond records in his Conversations that "that piece of 
the Pucelle of the Court was stolen out of his (Jonson's) 
pocket by a gentleman who drank him drousie, and given 
Mistress Boulstraid; which brought him great displeasure," 
as well it might. Donne wrote two elegies in her honour, 
one of which, at least, seems to be inspired by genuine emo- 
tion. 

LXXVHI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer and written in 161 5. (See note 
to XXXIV, above.) "This Lady" is apparently the Coun- 
tess of Huntingdon, and "the Lady where you are" the 
Countess of Bedford. 

LXXIX 

This letter, written on the eve of the German tour, on 
which Donne attended the Earl of Doncaster (See note to 



3o6 



Notes 



VII, above), was, I feel very sure, addressed, not to Sir 
Thomas Lucy, but to Sir Henry Goodyer. The allusions to 
Tuesday as a day of writing, the reference to "an establish- 
ment in your estate," the acknowledgment of his correspond- 
ent's favours in "keeping me alive in the memory of the 
noblest Countess "( of Bedford), all point to Goodyer. 

LXXX 

For the date see XXIV, and note. 

LXXXI 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, and evidently written just prior 
to Donne's appointment as Dean of Saint Paul's (Novem- 
ber 19th, 1621). "My Cases of Conscience" is, I suppose, 
the Paradoxes and Problems to which we have had frequent 
allusions. 

LXXXII 

The identity of Donne's "worthy friend F. H." is unknown 
to me. The letter evidently belongs to the closing years 
of Donne's life. In printing this letter, Mr. Gosse {Lije and 
Letters 0/ ]ohn Donne ^ II, 2^4) quotes from Walton : 

"The latter part of his life may be said to be a continued 
study; for as he usually preached once a week, if not oftener, 
so after his Sermon he never gave his eyes rest till he had 
chosen out a new Text, and that night cast his Sermon into 
a forme, and his Text into divisions; and the next day betook 
himself to consult the Fathers, and so commit his medita- 
tions to his memory, which was excellent. But upon Satur- 
day he usually gave himself and his mind a rest from the 
weary burthen of his week's meditations, and usually spent 
that day in visitation of friends and other diversions of his 
thoughts; and would say that he gave both his body and mind 
that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the work of the 
day following, not faintly, but with courage and cheerfulness." 



Notes 307 



LXXXIII 

To Sir Henry Goodyer, but a few weeks earlier than the 
date of LXI, and at about the same time as LXXV. "Mr. 
Selden" is the great John Selden. 

LXXXIV 

Written from Sir John Danvers' house in Chelsea where 
Donne had gone to stay at the height of the plague which 
raged in London during the summer of 1625. Lady Danvers 
was Donne's old friend, Mrs. Magdalen Herbert. (See 
note to XLIV, above.) Sir Edward Sackville became Earl 
of Dorset on the 28th of March, 1624, on the death of his 
brother, the third Earl. King James died on the 27th of 
March, 1625. "The Queen" is Henrietta Maria, whom 
Charles married a few weeks after his accession. 

LXXXV 

To George Gerrard. "The 14th of April, here (i.e., at 
Paris) 1612" would in England be April 4th, 1612. For 
the criticisms of his poems in honour of Elizabeth Drury 
to which Donne here makes reply, see note to XXVI above. 

LXXXVI 

To George Gerrard, and apparently written within a few 
weeks of the date of the next letter, addressed to the same 
friend and dated January 7th i63o[i] in the 1719 edition of 
Donne's Poems to which it is appended. 

LXXXVH 

To George Gerrard. Walton quotes this letter in full 
in his Lije of Donne, and in spite of their length his comments 
cannot be omitted here: 



3o8 



Notes 



"We left the Author sick in Essex, where he was forced to 
spend much of that winter, by reason of his disabiUty to 
remove from thence: And having never for almost twenty 
yeares omitted his personall Attendance on his Majesty in 
that moneth in which he was to attend and preach to him; 
nor having ever been left out of the Roll and number of 
Lent-Preachers; and there being then (in January i63o[i]) a 
report brought to London, or raised there, that Dr. Donne 
was dead: That report gave him occasion to write this follow- 
ing letter to a friend 

" Before that moneth ended, he was designed to preach 
upon his old constant day, the first Friday in Lent; he had 
notice of it, and had in his sicknesse so prepared for that 
imployment, that as he had long thirsted for it, so he resolved 
his weaknesse should not hinder his journey; he came there- 
fore to London, some few dayes before his day appointed. 
At his being there many of his friends (who with sorrow saw 
his sicknesse had left him onely so much flesh as did cover 
his bones) doubted his strength to performe that task; and 
therefore disswaded him from undertaking it, assuring him 
however, it was like to shorten his daies; but he passionately 
denyed their requests, saying, he would not doubt that God who 
in many weaknesses had assisted him with an unexpected 
strength, would not now withdraw it in his last employment; 
professing an holy ambition to performe that sacred work. 
And when to the amazement of some beholders he appeared 
in the Pulpit, many thought he presented himself not to 
preach mortification by a living voice, but mortality by a 
decayed body and dying face. And doubtlesse many did 
secretly ask that question in Ezekiel, Do these bones live? or 
can that soul Organize that tongue, to speak so long time as the 
sand in that glasse will move towards its Centre, and measure 
out an hour of this dying mans unspent life? Doubtlesse it 
cannot; yet after some faint pauses in his zealous prayer, 
his strong desires enabled his weake body to discharge 
his memory of his preconceived meditations; which were of 
dying, the Text being, To God the Lord belong the issues from 
Death. Many that then saw his teares, and heard his hollow 
voice, professing they thought the Text prophetically chosen, 
and that Dr. Donne had preach't his own funerall sermon. 



Notes 309 



" Being full of joy that God hs i enabled him to performe 
this desired duty, he hastened to his house, out of which he 
never moved, till like St. Stephen, he was carryed by devout 
men to his Grave. ^^ 

LXXXVIII 

This letter, addressed, I suppose, to Donne's sister Jane, 
the wife of Sir Thomas Grymes, is printed in the 1719 edition 
of the Poems, and is there dated "Amyens, the 7th of Febr. 
here, 161 1," i.e., January 28th, 1612. 

LXXXIX 

To George Gerrard, and written from Paris not long 
after the date of the preceding letter. 

xc 

Written in 1624, during Donne's recovery from a danger- 
ous illness. Here, as elsewhere, Walton is our best commen- 
tator: 

"Within a few dayes his distempers abated; and as his 
strength increased, so did his thankfulnesse to Almighty 
God, testified in his hook of Devotions, which he published 
at his recovery. In which the reader may see, the most 
secret thoughts that then possest his soul. Paraphrased and 
made publick; a book that may not unfitly be called a 
Sacred picture ot spiritual extasies, occasioned and applyable 
to the emergencies of that sicknesse, which being a composi- 
tion of Meditations, disquisitions and prayers, he writ on his 
sick-bed; herein imitating the holy Patriarchs, who were 
wont to build their Altars in that place, where they had 
received their blessings." 

Donne's Devotions upon Emergent Occasions and Several 
Steps in my Sickness was published in 1624, and dedicated 
"To the most excellent prince, Prince Charles." 



3 1 o Notes 



XCI 

To George Gerrard, and written from the Low Countries, 
where Donne was travelling with Sir Robert Drury in the 
late summer of 1612. 

XCII 

To George Gerrard, and evidently an amplified version 
of LXXXV. 

XCIII 

Apparently written on Donne's return to London at the 
beginning of the winter of 161 2-1 3. I imagine that George 
Gerrard and his sister had come up to London to meet Donne, 
but had, by some mischance, failed to find him. 

XCIV 

Written, I think, early in the summer of 161 2, and, if 
so, from Paris, whither Donne had gone with his "noble 
neighbour," Sir Robert Drury. "That Noble Lady" is 
presumably the Countess of Bedford. 

xcv 

To George Gerrard, and like the next letter written from 
Amiens in the winter of 1611-12. 

XCVII 

To George Gerrard's sister, and written from Spa in the 
summer of 1612. 

XCVIII 

Certainly not addressed to Sir Henry Goodyer, but proba- 
bly to Somerset, during the negotiations of which Walton, 
though with some inaccuracy, reports the happy ending: 

"His Majesty had promised him a favour, and many 



Notes 311 



persons of worth mediated with his Majesty for some secular 
employment for him, to which his education had apted him, 
and particularly the Earle of Somerset, when in his height 
of favour, being then at Theobalds with the King, where one 
of the Clerks of the Council died that night, the Earle having 
sent immediately for Mr. Donne to come to him, said, Mr. 
Donne, To testifie the reality of my affection, and my purpose 
to prefer you, stay in this garden till I go up to the King, and 
bring you word that you are Clerk of the Council. The King 
gave a positive denial to all requests; and having a discern- 
ing spirit, replied, / know Mr. Donne is a learned man, has 
the abilities of a learned Divine, and will prove a powerfull 
Preacher, and my desire is to prefer him that way. After that, 
as he professeth, the King descended almost to a solicitation of 
him to enter into sacred Orders: which, though he then denied 
not, yet he deferred it for three years." 

XCIX 

Written in 161 3. (See note on L, above.) 

C 

Donne's fifth daughter, Margaret, was christened April 
20th, 161 5, three days after the date of this letter. 

CI 

Mary, Donne's fourth daughter, died in May, 1614, in 
her fourth year. 

CII 

This letter, and CXIII, below, seem to belong to the 
same period, probably to the closing years of Donne's resi- 
dence at Mitcham, when Donne maj^ have begun to hope 
that through his acquaintance with the Earl of Bedford 
(who is, I think, here intended by "My Lord") he might 
obtain public employment of some kind. 



312 Notes 



cm 

This and the two following letters belong to July and 
August, 1622, and seem to relate to a single incident. Sir 
Robert Ker had apparently asked Donne -for his opinion of 
one of his fellow-travellers in attendance on Lord Doncaster 
during the German tour. Donne's evident anxiety to be 
fair to both parties results in a somewhat indefinite answer. 

CVI 

Donne's eyes gave him a good deal of trouble in the winter 
of 161 3-14; this letter, as well as LXVII, above, may belong 
to this period. 

CVII 

"In August, 1630," says Walton, "being with his eldest 
daughter, Mrs. Harvy, at Abury Hatch in Essex, he there 
fell into a fever, which, with the help of his constant infirmity 
(vapours from the spleen,) hastened him into so visible a 
consumption, that his beholders might say, as St. Paul said 
of himself, 'He dies daily.'" This letter was written from 
Abury (or Aldeburgh) Hatch. "Mrs. Harvy" is Donne's 
daughter Constance, the widow of Edward Alleyn, and now 
the wife of Samuel Harvey. Donne's son George, the soldier, 
was taking part in the campaign in Spain. Lord Carlisle 
was the old friend whom, as Lord Doncaster, Donne had 
attended in his German embassy. Lord Percy was Algernon 
Percy, soon to become fourth Earl of Northumberland. 

• CVIII 

Written apparently before Donne had entered the church, 
and probably in 1614, while Donne was still living in Drury 
House. George Gerrard was at court. His "hopeful 



Notes 



313 



designs upon worthy widows" seem to have been the cause 
of much pleasantry. (See XIX.) 

CIX 

There is no certain indication of the date of this letter. 
Mr. Gosse assigns it ccnjecturally to 1622, It seems to me 
more likely that it belongs to the period of Donne's resi- 
dence at Mitcham, and is of 1609, or earlier date. "My 
house" would then be Donne's lodgings in the Strand. 

CX 

Written not long after the date of CVII, above, and pre- 
sumably from Aldeburgh Hatch- "The Lady of the Jewel" 
(obviously "the Diamond Lady" of CVII) remains a mystery. 
Apparently she had placed her jewels in Donne's keeping, 
thus charging him with a responsibility which he seems to 
have found exceedingly irksome. 

CXI 
Donne was ordained in January, 161 5, a "very few days" 
before the date of this letter. 

CXII 

This letter may safely be assigned to 161 3. Rochester 
was made Earl of Somerset in December of this year, a few 
days before his marriage to Lady Frances Howard. Surely 
none of the letters to Somerset for which Sir Francis Bacon 
has been so severely condemned expresses a more complete 
submission than is here offered. 

CXIV 

To George Gerrard. Probably written from France, 
and, if so, presumably to be assigned to 161 2, when Donne 



314 Notes 



was in Paris with Sir Robert Drury. "This book of French 
Satyrs^^ Mr. Gosse takes to be the first authoritative edition 
of Regnier's Satyres et autres ceuvres folastres, 161 2. 

cxv 

The allusion to Pierre du MouHn, the French theologian, 
who preached before the Court in June, 161 5, gives the 
approximate date of this letter. Sir Thomas Grymes, the 
husband of Donne's sister Jane, we have already met. 
Donne says father-in-law where we should say step-father. 

CXVI 

Sir Dudley Carleton remained as Ambassador to Venice 
until 1616, when he was succeeded by Sir Henry Wotton, 
but this letter must have been written before Donne's ordi- 
nation in January, 1615. "My Lord" is, of course, the 
Earl of Somerset. 

CXVII 

This, and the next letter, may belong to the same period 
as the preceding letter to Sir Robert Ker. '■'Monte Magor" 
is George de Montemayor, whose " Shepherdess Felismena," 
in the Spanish pastoral romance of "Diana," tells the same 
story as "The Two Gentlemen of Verona." A translation 
into English by Bartholomew Yonge was published in 1598, 
but Donne may have read it in the original. 

CXIX 

On November 4, 161 6, Charles, the Duke of York, was 
created Prince of Wales. 

cxx 

This letter, like CXVI, seems to belong to the period 
immediately preceding Donne's entrance into the church, 



Notes 315 



when Sir Robert Ker's advice as to the best way of retain- 
ing Somerset's interest was constantly in request. 

CXXI 

To George Gerrard, and belonging to the winter of 
1612-13. Cf. XCI, which also carried an enclosure. The 
letter enclosed with the present letter may have been ad- 
dressed to Lord Clifford (Cf. CVI) or, more probably, to 
Rochester. 

CXXII 

This and the next two letters were written in April, 
1627, and relate to the same incident. This letter is the 
first, and the next the last of the series. 

Dr. Richard Montagu, who had been chaplain to James I, 
was the highest of high-churchmen, and a believer in the 
doctrine of the divine right of kings in its extreme form. He 
is said to have looked upon reunion with the Roman church 
as quite possible. In the ecclesiastical politics of the time 
he was an ardent supporter of Laud, then Bishop of Bath 
and Wells. In the early part of 1627 Montagu published 
his Apello Ccesarem, in spite of the opposition of Archbishop 
Abbot, who had refused to license it. Abbot thereupon in- 
stigated an attack on Montagu in the House of Commons. 
Montagu was committed to the custody of the serjeant- 
at-arms, and the House petitioned the King for his punish- 
ment. Charles not only refused his consent, but marked 
his resentment of the attitude of Archbishop Abbot and the 
Commons by making Montagu Bishop of Chichester. Abbot 
returned to the charge in a sermon which gave the King 
great offense. At this juncture Donne was appointed to 
preach before the court. Laud was present and seems to 
have thought, and to have persuaded the King, that Donne's 



3i6 



Notes 



sermon indicated sympathy with Abbct, whose break with 

the King was now open. At any rate Laud directed Donne 

to send a copy of his sermon to the King. 

The letters tell the rest of the story so far as Donne is 

concerned. Abbot, on his refusal to license Dr. Sibthorpe's 

sermon, Apostolical Obedience, was deprived of his archiepis- 

copal authority, which was given to a commission of five 

bishops. 

CXXIII 

As Donne was born and bred in the Roman church, this 

reference to the religion he was born in, is explicable only 

if we understand Donne to be thinking of the Anglican and 

Roman communions as branches of one Catholic Church, 

divided in government, but spiritually one. 

CXXIV 

There is in the British Museum a copy of Donne's Poems, 
1633, which belonged to Charles I, and which contains MS. 
notes in his hand. "The Bishop" here is Laud; "My Lord 
Duke" is Buckingham. 

cxxv 

This letter, and CXXVII, below, which should precede 
it, relate to the occasion of the delivery of the first of the 
Two Sermons Preached before King Charles, upon the xxvi 
verse of the first Chapter of Genesis, which stand at the head 
of Donne's published Sermons. James I died on March 
27th, 1625. One week later, Donne, at the command of 
the new King, preached at the Court. His extreme nervous- 
ness and almost painful diffidence are clearly implied in these 
two letters to Sir Robert Ker. 

CXXVI 

I am unable to "give any satisfactory account of this 
letter. The form of the address indicates that it was written 



Notes 317 



not earlier than 1625 when Ker became Master of the Privy- 
Purse. "My great neighbour" may possibly be "the B" 
of CXXVIII. 

CXXVIII 

"The B" to whom allusion is here made, is George Mon- 
taigne, Bishop of London since 1621, and a prominent mem- 
ber of the party of which Laud, now Bishop of Bath and 
Wells, was already the leader. In 1628 Montaigne's witty 
suggestion that the King had power to throw "this moun- 
tain" into the see of York was rewarded by his appointment 
as Archbishop of York, Laud succeeding him as Bishop of 
London. Montaigne warmly defended Montagu against 
the attacks of Archbishop Abbot. (See note to CXXII, 
above.) 

CXXIX 

This letter, written less than two weeks before his death, 
is addressed to one of the most intimate of the friends of 
Donne's later life. Mrs. Thomas Cokain, or Cokayne, had 
been abandoned by her husband, who left her with a house- 
ful of children, at Ashbourne, the Derbyshire estate of the 
Cokaynes, and went to London where the rest of his life was 
spent in the compilation of an English-Greek lexicon, which 
was finally published in 1658, twenty years after his death. 

Donne lived long enough to perform the Lenten service 
of which he v/rites. On February 12th, 1631, he preached 
at Court the last and most famous of his sermons, Deaths 
Duell, or, A Consolation to the Soule, against the Dying Life, 
and living Death of the Body, Delivered in a Sermon at White- 
Hall, before the KINGS MAIESTIE, in the beginning of 
Lent, i6jo[i], By that late Learned and Reverend Divine^ 
John Donne, Dr. in Divinity, and Deane of S. Pauls, 
London. 



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